


Fortune Favors The Bold

by ShowMeAHero



Series: fortune favors the bold [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott, Brief description of violence, Christmas Fluff, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Domestic, Domestic Derek and Stiles, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Marriage, Moving In Together, Original Child Characters, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pregnancy, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Trans Character, Trans!Stiles, Unplanned Pregnancy, Werebabies, in which derek and stiles have a baby and fall in love and in that order, just a big domestic fun time, month by month, well that's just one part of many but it is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:18:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek make a mistake, and they spend as much time cleaning it up as they do accidentally falling in love with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune Favors The Bold

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I had no idea what was going to happen when I started this. I just had this idea, and it spiraled from there. I'll put more commentary in the end notes, so as not to spoil anything, but, just. Wow.

Derek stared at the door, brow furrowed, as soon as he heard Stiles’ rapid heartbeat and slow footsteps approaching his new [apartment](https://33.media.tumblr.com/7c8bdd65dc6f85c42124ecda5256eaa6/tumblr_n84cvfICIv1qg1ngpo1_500.png) on July 2nd. He was strongly debating opening the door before he got there, just to startle him, but decided against it, instead just staying in his armchair and waiting for Stiles to reach the door and knock.

After all the chaos of the last few months, and Derek getting the ass-end of everything lately, he found that he had, at some point, become _friends_ with Stiles. Which was… well, new, and not really all that bad. Stiles was a good friend to have; resourceful, helpful. A good guy, genuinely. And he’s kind of mellowed out a little bit with Malia; the two of them really balance each other out, Derek thought, and she was good for him. They were good for each other. And, after Derek’s de-aging, and his subsequent closeness with Stiles, everything seemed to be working out from there.

The pack was really becoming something solid. With Scott as the Alpha, Derek was more than comfortable being a Beta. He had been raised to be a Beta, under his mother and, eventually, under Laura. Being an Alpha was something he had _had_ to do, never something he exactly _wanted_ to do. Even with Isaac gone, Scott’s pack - though not made of werewolves alone - was holding its own. He had no Omegas, and Derek was not the only Beta. He took the spot of Scott’s third, behind Stiles, who, despite being the only human in the pack, was Scott’s second. Lydia, Kira, and Malia all took their own positions in the pack, and Scott has been keeping his head above water.

Stiles finally reached the door and, after a brief silence where all Derek could hear was Stiles’ pounding heartbeat, knocked. Derek heaved himself out of the chair and opened the front door of his apartment for Stiles. He was stunned to discover that Stiles had tears all over his face; he carefully got control over his expression while Stiles rubbed at his face with his sleeve.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” Derek asked gingerly, and Stiles surged forward, grabbing Derek’s face and kissing him forcefully. Derek stumbled back a step, catching Stiles by the wrists, before he gently pulled away and shut the door behind them. “What the hell?”

“Malia broke up with me,” Stiles admitted, releasing Derek and stepping back. “Shit, _shit_ , I am _so sorry_ , I just-”

“Stiles, it’s okay, just… calm down,” Derek said, trying to be reassuring. He led Stiles to his second-hand sofa and sat him down, then perched on the edge of the coffee table. Their knees were an inch away from touching. “What happened?”

“We had a nasty fight,” Stiles murmured, shoving his face into his hands. “It’s because I’m trans. She wasn’t- I mean, she wasn’t _mad_. It’s not because of that- Well, it _is_ because of that, but it’s more like-”

“Stiles, calm down,” Derek repeated, and Stiles took a deep breath and pulled his hands away from his face. “Slow down, okay?”

Stiles nodded, took another deep breath, and kept his eyes on his hands. “She’s straight, and it doesn’t matter that I… I mean, I identify as male, but I don’t have all the right parts.” Stiles ran a hand roughly through his hair. “She tried, but it’s not enough for her. And she’s spent so much time… She went off instinct for so long, when she was a coyote, you know, and _this_ tells her she can’t have kids if she stays with me, which isn’t… And I _understand_ that, which is why we had to figure this out _now_ , but it still… hurts.” Stiles shook his head. “I kind of want to just… I kind of want to just get out of town for a while now, right? I’ve graduated, and everything’s finally _calm_ around here.” He turned his head to look up at Derek. “Am I being an idiot?”

“No,” Derek answered immediately. “No, of course not. After… everything, that happened to my family, Laura and I went to New York for a while. When something bad happens, it’s natural to want to leave.”

“My dad’s here,” Stiles said quietly. “Scott’s here. _You’re_ here.”

“Just a month or two, then,” Derek suggested. “A couple weeks, even. Whatever you need.” He paused, thinking, debating whether or not to offer. “You know, I still own my apartment in New York. If you want.”

Stiles eyed Derek. “Why?”

“Why do I still own it? Because I thought it would be a good inve-”

“No, why are you offering it up?” Stiles clarified. “Why are you telling me this is a good idea? Why are you helping me, when I’m such an _idiot_ for-”

“You’re not, and you _know_ you’re not, Stiles,” Derek reminded him. Stiles stopped talking, and took another deep breath. “If you think you need to get away, you need to get away. You know yourself best.”

Stiles blew out a harsh breath and eyed Derek. “Thank you.”

“It’s going to be okay, Stiles,” Derek said, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, and dropped his hand onto Stiles’, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of Stiles’ hand. Stiles looked down at his hand, then turned up his own, wrapping his fingers around Derek’s.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Stiles murmured, edging forwards until he could place his free hand on Derek’s jaw. He inclined his head, and Derek frowned slightly, his brow furrowing.

“Stiles, this is just a rebound-”

“I know,” Stiles interrupted. “I know it is, and I don’t need you to protect me. If you want this, Derek, then I am more than willing to do this.”

Derek paused to think, Stiles’ hand on his face, his mouth only inches away now. If Stiles knew what he was doing, and he _wanted_ this, then who was Derek to deny him this? He certainly hadn’t had sex in quite some time, and he had recently had more than a vague interest in Stiles. If Stiles wanted this, and he was going to leave soon anyways, it would probably turn out alright. And if this was all he could get, he was going to take it, and he was going to run with it. Run fast, and run far.

“I want this,” Derek spoke softly, and Stiles closed the distance between their mouths.

* * *

Stiles was gone for a little over three months. Derek tried hard not to think about him while he was gone, and he built something of a normal life for himself. He went to the grocery store, he talked to his neighbors. He even babysat Mrs. Evans’ son across the hall once when she had to go help her brother with something. He was building a normal life for himself.

He was also the first person to see Stiles after Stiles came home, as well. Not Scott, not the Sheriff, not Lydia, not Malia; for some reason, Derek. Derek was fairly surprised until he opened the door and realized a change in Stiles’ scent. He sniffed at the air, frowning, and Stiles stalked past him into the apartment.

“I am _nineteen years old_ ,” Stiles spat, and Derek slowly shut the door behind him.

“...Yes?” Derek agreed carefully. He followed after Stiles at a careful distance. “Are you having an identity crisis?”

“Like it wasn’t bad enough that I’m like this,” Stiles stormed, motioning to himself as he stalked back and forth across Derek’s living room. “I can’t wear my binder, I can’t start taking hormones, I can’t-”

“Stiles, slow down,” Derek instructed, staying a couple steps away from Stiles in order to keep from making him feel crowded. “Explain, please.”

“I’m pregnant,” Stiles exclaimed, throw his arms up in the air, letting them fall back down to slap against his thighs. “Do you know how bad this is? Ignoring the facts of now I can’t transition for _God knows_ how long, we’re going to have a _kid_. Can’t you smell that, you… super-fertile wolfman?”

Derek froze in place, staring at Stiles’ face as he placed the scent. The scent he knew he recognized, vaguely familiar, something he recalled from his past - from when he was young, and his mother carried his younger siblings. He stepped forward and sharply unzipped Stiles’ sweatshirt.

“Hey, knock it off,” Stiles snapped, backing away from Derek. Derek dropped his hands and shoved them into his back pockets.

“I’m sorry, I just-” Derek exhaled sharply. “I’m just. I never thought-”

“Derek, you gotta chill, alright?” Stiles tugged his sweatshirt off and tossed it over the back of the armchair. He crossed his arms, then, carefully, unfolded them, positioning himself in a more welcoming stance. Derek stepped forward cautiously, reaching out with his hands to Stiles’ midsection.

“I’m so sorry,” Derek apologized. He _was_ sorry, for Stiles’ anger, and how it seemed to him that he had ruined Stiles’ life. He was _not_ sorry for the end result; even if Stiles wanted no part of the child’s life, he wanted the child. He let go of him, taking a step back and stuffing his hands into his back pockets again. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this right now-”

“Derek, chill,” Stiles said firmly, and Derek closed his mouth. “We have to decide what to do.”

“It’s your decision,” Derek assured him quickly. “It’s your decision, because you have to carry it, but…”

“But what?” Stiles asked, stepping back until he could sit in the armchair. Derek hesitated, then sat on the edge of the sofa. He reached out and shifted Stiles’ armchair until they were facing each other.

“But I don’t have a family,” Derek continued. “Not anymore. I have… I mean, I have pack. I have you, and Scott, and the girls. But it’s not like family, not like Laura used to feel, or my brothers, my sisters, my parents. It’s not like how Scott must feel towards his mother, or you feel towards your father.” Derek ran a hand through his hair roughly. “This might be my last chance at having a family, and I already feel-”

“You already feel like it’s family,” Stiles finished for him. He shook his head and dropped his face into his hands. “Shit.”

“Like I said, it’s entirely your decision,” Derek reminded him. “It’s your body.”

“But it’s your kid, too,” Stiles responded. He scrubbed at his face with his hands and looked up at Derek. “I’m not sure… if I want to be involved. I don’t know yet.”

“You have time,” Derek hurried to reassure him. Stiles shook his head and stood.

“I have to tell my dad,” Stiles informed him, and Derek stood, as well.

“I’ll come with you,” Derek stated. Stiles began to argue, but Derek cut him off with a look. “It’s just as much my fault as it is yours. I should be there. And, besides, you know.”

Stiles did know, and Derek could tell he knew - Derek would never get the chance again, to tell a parent they were going to be a grandparent. Stiles nodded his acquiescence.

“We’ll have to tell Melissa McCall, too,” Stiles reminded him. “And Scott, and the rest of the pack.” Stiles whistled. “This is gonna _suck_ , man.”

* * *

The Sheriff looked back and forth between Derek and Stiles before standing, leaving his coffee behind on the kitchen table as he went to stand by the window. Derek hesitated before moving to stand, as well, but Stiles laid a hand on his forearm and shook his head, and Derek sat back down. The kitchen was silent for several minutes before John spoke again.

“Is it going to be a werewolf, too?” he asked, and Stiles looked to Derek. Derek cleared his throat.

“Not necessarily,” Derek answered honestly. “But it’s likely. The werewolf gene is dominant, and it’s more likely than not that the bab- that _it_ will be a werewolf. It’s possible it’ll be human, though. I had human siblings.”

John was silent for a moment again. “Will you be able to tell?” He turned around and tapped the side of his nose. “You can tell things like that, can’t you?”

“I can try, but I never really learned how,” Derek admitted. John held up a hand.

“I understand.” John looked from Derek to Stiles, who simultaneously seemed to both square his shoulders and sink down in his seat. “You know you’ve made a mistake.”

“I know,” Stiles agreed, and John nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“And you know this is a forever thing,” John continued, and Stiles nodded. “I knew I beat this into you, and your _mother_ beat this into you, Stiles.”

“I made a mistake,” Stiles said firmly, and the conviction with which he admitted that was remarkably admirable to Derek, who could hardly imagine coming to his father with something like this when _he_ was younger. He was never nineteen while his dad was alive, but still. “I made a mistake, but it’s one I’ll figure out. I’m taking a year off, and Derek’s going to take the kid when I go to college.”

“You still have a lot to work out,” John warned him, and Derek placed his hand on Stiles’ thigh under the table, where the Sheriff could not see. Stiles glanced down quickly, then wrapped his fingers around Derek’s tightly.

“I know,” Stiles replied. “But I _will_  work it out.”

* * *

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Scott exclaimed, shoving his chair back from the table and standing. Melissa looked up at Scott, then back down at Stiles.

“Are you feeling alright?” Melissa asked, and Derek watched as Stiles visibly relaxed into her mothering. “Did you know you can’t take hormones now? Do you need any help with prenatal-”

“Mom, chill for a second,” Scott interrupted, and Melissa raised an eyebrow at her son.

“I want to make sure he’s alright,” Melissa responded, and Scott nodded.

“Right, sorry, I’m just…” Scott blew out a breath, then pointed at Derek. “You. Are an _idiot_. Why weren’t you _thinking_?”

“Hey, it’s not just his fault,” Stiles argued, standing from the table. “I was there, too, remember.”

“You’re my best friend, I don’t want to blame you,” Scott informed him, and Stiles threw his hands up.

“Then don’t blame _anyone_ ,” Stiles shouted, and Derek stood, as well. Melissa rose to her feet, seemingly only to no longer be the only one sitting down. The steps creaked, and Scott’s dad appeared.

“What’s going on?” Rafe asked. “I heard yelling.”

“Nothing, Dad,” Scott replied, glancing over his shoulder at Rafe. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rafe looked back and forth between Scott and Stiles, then looked to Melissa, who just shook her head. He disappeared back up the stairs.

“Alright, listen,” Derek began, and Scott leaned back, as though surprised that Derek was even still _there_ , never mind that he was _talking_. “I lost my _entire_ family. I _just_ got a pack, and then I lost most of them. I have you, but you’re a pack of teenagers and, even though you’re my pack, you’re not my family.” Derek pointed at Stiles. “ _He_ is my family now. This _kid_ is my family now. This is _important_ , to Stiles and to me, as well as to you and to your pack. So, you can blame me if you want. Scream until you choke, if you want. I don’t care. But this is happening.”

Melissa stared at Derek when he finished. Stiles whistled.

“I think that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you string together at once,” Stiles commented, and Scott shook his head.

“This clearly means a lot to you,” Scott said, “to say something like that to your Alpha. Even if your Alpha is me.” Scott waved his hand absently. “Don’t fuck this up, man, or I _swear_ -”

“Scott, I love you, and it’s going to be fine,” Stiles interrupted, before Scott could pick up steam. The two of them paused for a moment, then both broke into wide grins simultaneously. Scott moved first, and embraced Stiles tightly.

“You feel weird,” Scott commented, and Stiles laughed before tucking his face into Scott’s neck.

“Seriously, though, Stiles,” Melissa began again when their embrace ended. “Whatever you need, I’m here. I’m not an obstetrician, but I can still help.”

“Thanks, Mrs. McCall,” Stiles said, moving to hug her, as well. “You’re going to be an awesome grandmother.”

Melissa held a little more tightly onto Stiles after his last comment.

* * *

“Should we tell Peter?”

“Not on your life.”

* * *

“So, what, you left after we broke up and jumped straight onto his dick?” Malia shouted, and Stiles was on his feet in a heartbeat.

“I was _upset_ , and he was _there_ , and you _weren’t_ ,” Stiles shot back. Malia shook her head jerkily. Lydia and Kira both stayed seated on the sofa in Scott’s living room.

“Stiles, calm down,” Derek said quietly, and Stiles waved him off.

“I have spent _three months_ in _misery_ , Malia,” Stiles exclaimed. “ _Alone_. I had to come off my Adderall, I had to relapse, and I had to fucking keep this kid alive long enough to come home. I’m finally _normal_ enough to be here, the kid’s _alive_ , and I do _not need_ you _screaming_ in my _face_!”

Derek reached out and dropped a firm hand on Stiles’ shoulder, squeezing lightly. Stiles took a deep breath, and Malia stared at him, caught between surprise and distress. She turned and stormed out; Stiles shook his head and chased after her. Derek fell down to sit in the stiff-backed chair by the window, dropping his face into his hands. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to find Lydia and Kira standing over him. The hand on his shoulder belonged to Lydia; Kira smiled reassuringly.

“I can hear them,” Kira offered. “They’re really good friends besides the whole dating and break-up thing, you know. They’ve just got to work it out. And I know they will.”

“You did a stupid thing, but you’re both owning up,” Lydia added. “Everything’ll come together in the end, I’m sure.”

“...Thank you,” Derek said hesitantly, and Lydia clapped him on the shoulder before striding back to the sofa and falling back down onto it. Kira lingered by Derek, distracted by the view out the window.

“Don’t thank us yet,” Lydia said, and Derek nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck.

* * *

_Month Four_

“I can’t take it anymore,” Derek said, as soon as Stiles picked up the phone. Stiles was silent for a moment.

“I can’t read minds, buddy,” Stiles replied eventually, and Derek stared at the empty room in front of him.

“You, being so far away,” Derek clarified, and Stiles was silent again. An achievement in and of itself, for sure, but Derek had never been so uncomfortable with Stiles being quiet as he was right at that moment. “Listen, Stiles, it’s a pack thing, it’s a ma-” Derek stopped himself, then shook his head. “It’s a werewolf thing, alright? I understand that you’re human, but I’m going crazy over here. You’re too far away. And I’ve got an extra room.”

Stiles was speechless for a moment before speaking. When he did speak, though, Derek could practically hear the teasing grin in his voice. “So, you’re asking me to move in with you? It drives you absolutely _insane_ having me so far away, and you can’t _bear_ another second without me?”

“Sure, Stiles,” Derek allowed, letting Stiles have his way.

“I can practically hear you rolling your eyes from here,” Stiles razzed. Derek shrugged. “And don’t just _shrug_.”

“Jesus, Stiles, are you _sure_ you can’t read my mind?” Derek asked, and Stiles laughed. Derek smiled; the sound of Stiles laughing was rarer lately than it used to be, and he did like to hear it.

“I’ll talk to my dad, but I’m sure he’ll understand,” Stiles told him. “I’ll call you back.” He hung up, and Derek stared at his phone for a moment before locking it and sticking it back in his pocket. He looked out at the room again, then moved to the closet, opening it and peering in at its empty insides. He finally just gave up and paced back and forth across the length of the room until his phone vibrated, a tinny instrumental version of “Baby Momma” coming through the phone’s speakers, courtesy of Stiles. Derek sighed and slid to answer.

“Hello, Stiles,” Derek greeted, and Stiles laughed.

“I know you love your ringtone, you’re only pretending to sound annoyed,” Stiles joked. “Anyways, cleared it, you’re fine. Help me pack up and we can have me out of here by tomorrow, because I texted Scott-”

“You _texted Scott_?”

“Keep your shirt on, yes, I texted Scott, and he said he probably would’ve freaked out way sooner, so I feel bad. So, yeah, we’ll do this as fast as you need use to,” Stiles finished, and Derek nodded to himself.

“Thank you,” Derek responded, and Stiles sighed lightly.

“The things I do,” Stiles said, and Derek huffed a laugh. “Come on over. Bring boxes. Do you have a bed for me?”

“No.”

“Get Kira’s dad’s truck.”

* * *

Packing was a shockingly difficult task, since Stiles insisted on not only packing everything he owned, but also going through it all to choose what he wanted to donate and get rid of at the same time. Derek and Scott ended up crashing on his floor and waking up early the next morning to finish the job. Without Stiles’ help, but with the added assistance of John, Melissa, Kira, Lydia, and Malia, Derek and Scott got everything packed up and in the truck by lunchtime.

“Never thought this day would come,” the Sheriff said, looking over Stiles’ empty room as Stiles finished sweeping the floors and Derek pulled the curtains down. “Or happen so quickly.”

“Sheriff, I’m-”

“If you apologize one more time, Hale, I swear,” John threatened lightly, and Derek inclined his head as he folded the curtains. “It’s just rough, when your kid leaves.” He motioned absently at Derek. “I guess you’ll find out eventually, then, won’t you?”

“I guess so, sir,” Derek agreed. He turned to Stiles. “I’m going to put these in the truck. Come down whenever you’re ready.”

Stiles nodded to him and gave him a smile before he left. Scott and the pack had already left to grab lunch at a local diner after Derek’s insistence that he could handle getting Stiles’ things into his apartment, and so the bottom floor of the Stilinskis’ house was empty when Derek walked through it. He made his way to the borrowed truck and sat on the edge of the opened back, playing with the curtains and carefully _not_ eavesdropping on Stiles’ conversation. He waited patiently, listening to the sounds of the outdoors around him until Stiles came outside.

Stiles had taken to wearing looser clothes lately, large sweatshirts and some of Derek’s shirts if the mood struck him. Derek had repeatedly assured him nothing was noticeable, but Stiles was insistent that it was. Derek would be lying if he said he did not notice, but he knew what to look for. As it was at the moment, Stiles was wearing a red hoodie, the sleeves tugged up past his elbows, the front zipped up nearly to his neck. He handed Derek a small box when he got outside, which Derek placed in the back of the truck with the curtains before he helped Stiles up to sit beside him.

“You’re sure about this?” Derek asked, once he got settled. Stiles nodded, then looked down at himself.

“I know everything we read said I can’t feel them yet, but I feel like I can,” Stiles commented, in a seemingly random topic switch. Derek shrugged and leaned back on his hands.

“Maybe you can,” Derek said. Stiles peered at him. “If it’s a werewolf, I mean, I never knew if werewolf development is different than human development. I wasn’t old enough when the last of us was born and Laura never…” Derek trailed off, then cleared his throat. “My point is, you might be able to. Don’t count it out.”

“Well, let’s drive this stuff to your place, return the truck, and get going,” Stiles said, clapping Derek on the shoulder and slipping off the truck. “My appointment’s at three, you’re driving.”

“Why?” Derek asked, sliding to his feet and closing up the truck. He pulled the tarp taut over the bed and tied it securely before following Stiles into the truck.

“Because I’m tired and you have to go anyways,” Stiles informed him, turning on the air conditioner immediately to ward off the muggy California air. “It’s _October_ , you’d think we’d have cooler weather by now, but _no_.”

“This is just a fluke, it’ll get cooler soon,” Derek promised as they pulled out of the driveway. Stiles watched his house get left behind in silence as they pulled away, his father visible moving about in Stiles’ now-empty room upstairs. Stiles fell asleep almost immediately in the truck, and Derek drove them to his apartment building. Derek let him sleep while he unpacked the truck, making sure the halls and elevator were largely unoccupied before he let himself use his strength to carry multiple boxes at a time. When he finished, he carefully woke Stiles up.

“You have to drive the truck so I can ride the bike over,” Derek told him, and Stiles groaned as he stretched.

“Should I still be riding on that thing?” Stiles asked, extending his arms above his head as he dragged himself out of the passenger side of the truck. “It can’t be safe.”

“It’s safe, you wear your helmet, and I’m fine at driving it,” Derek reminded him. “But I’ve been looking into new cars. Safe ones, you know. With airbags.”

“Den mother,” Stiles teased, slamming the truck door shut and making his way to the driver’s side. He yawned, his jaw cracking, and Derek handed him a mini bottle of water. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Derek replied, opening the driver’s side door for him. Stiles raised an eyebrow at him, but ducked under Derek’s arm and hopped up into the truck anyways. He pulled the door shut behind him and waved to Derek.

“Follow me to Kira’s,” Stiles called out the window before rolling it up. Derek went to retrieve his and Stiles’ helmets, sticking his own on his head and pulling the face shield down. He attached Stiles’ helmet to his belt and shoved it in the space in front of him until he was sure it would not shake loose, then kicked off, his [Seventy-Two](http://thekneeslider.com/images/2012/02/harley-davidson-seventy-two-red.jpg) roaring to life under him and flying down the road after Stiles. After a time, when the road back into Kira’s part of town was empty, Derek passed Stiles, holding up a hand as he hurtled past him. Stiles flipped him off, but he was grinning as Derek pulled in front of him and bent sideways around the next curve in the road.

He waited outside Kira’s house for a couple of minutes before Stiles arrived. Stiles was cursing Derek the moment he stepped out of the car.

“You won’t look so cool when you get smashed by an eighteen-wheeler, I hope you know that,” Stiles commented, and Derek shrugged casually.

“I always thought I’d look nice smeared all over the road,” Derek replied, and Stiles shoved him before going up to the house and returning Mr. Yukimura’s keys to him. He returned to Derek, and Derek handed him his helmet, then climbed back on.

“I hope I die on this thing just to teach you a lesson,” Stiles shouted over the engine as he secured his helmet and pulled the face shield down. He climbed on behind Derek, wrapping his arms around his waist and gripping him tightly, his fingers wound in the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt. Derek swallowed forcefully in an attempt to quell the sudden jolt he felt in his stomach, and he took off again, this time always staying at least ten miles per hour _under_ the speed limit, if not more. Stiles’ helmeted head was always looking over his shoulder, the metal chin bumping into Derek when he adjusted every now and then, and it took all of Derek’s concentration to get them to the obstetrician’s office in their original pieces.

“Was that safe enough for you?” Derek asked when they were parked. Stiles pulled off his helmet as Derek locked the motorcycle.

“They’re dangerous,” Stiles stated, not for the first time, before he grinned. “But they’re so much fucking fun.”

“I know,” Derek replied, taking Stiles’ helmet from him and carrying them both in. He let Stiles sign in and take his paperwork while he scrounged up seats for them amongst the many women already waiting. More than a few people looked their way, and Derek ignored them.

“I can always feel their eyes on me,” Stiles murmured to himself, checking another box on the paper in front of him. He flipped the paper backwards over the back of the clipboard and started filling out the top section on the next page. “They know I’m different.”

“Everyone’s different,” Derek offered, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I don’t really care,” Stiles continued, as though Derek had not spoken. “I just get uncomfortable. I’m used to it, but, really, that doesn’t mean I don’t get sick of it.”

Derek pat Stiles on the forearm and let him keep filling out his paperwork. He looked around the room absently, gaze skimming over the neutral pieces of wall art and the women looking at their phones, their partners, or their books and magazines. He caught a couple - a man and a woman - staring openly at Stiles, and he let his eyes flash when they noticed him and made eye contact. Both of them gaped at him for a moment before looking away, and Stiles elbowed Derek in the stomach.

“Can you not scare the innocents?” Stiles shot under his breath. “This is one of the best people I could find nearby, alright? I don’t want to get kicked out or something.”

“They were staring,” Derek argued, and Stiles looked up at him in exasperation.

“And you wolfing out on them is going to change that?” Stiles argued right back, flipping the pages back into order and standing. “I’ll be _right back_. Don’t tear out any throats while I’m gone, please.”

“No promises,” Derek replied. Stiles rolled his eyes again, but left Derek alone anyways. The couple was now shooting anxious glances at Derek, but he ignored them, instead attempting - mostly in vain - to read the child’s cross-stitching on the wall to his left. Stiles returned not two minutes later, taking his seat beside Derek again. The two of them passed the half-hour until Stiles’ appointment having thumb wars - on Stiles’ insistence - and playing chess on Derek’s phone. Once Stiles’ name was called, he blew out a breath, slapped his own thighs, and stood, leaving Derek to follow behind him.

Derek respectfully stayed silent and averted his eyes while the nurse went through pre-appointment routine with him, and waited in the corner of the room until the obstetrician showed up. She was a nice lady, with waves of ebony hair and creamy dark skin, who introduced herself as Dr. Mahajan. Even after she showed up, Derek stayed mostly quiet, letting Stiles take the reins until the doctor directly addressed him.

“So, you’re the other father?” Dr. Mahajan asked, and Derek mentally gave her credits for not calling Stiles the baby’s mother.

“I am,” Derek confirmed, holding out his hand. “Derek Hale.”

“Dr. Jyoti Mahajan,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Stiles tells me you’re planning out the gender today, if you can.”

“That’s right,” Derek agreed. Dr. Mahajan smiled at him.

“Let’s get right to it, then,” Dr. Mahajan announced, and Stiles unzipped his hoodie and shrugged out of it, passing it to Derek, who folded it in half and threw it over his shoulder, adjusting it so it would not slide off. He had hardly seen Stiles in just a shirt lately, never mind with his shirt _off_ , so he tried not to get distracted when Dr. Mahajan tugged his shirt up and started working. Stiles let his head fall back, and he looked up at Derek and smiled reassuringly. Derek dropped his hand to Stiles’ shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“Now, see there,” Dr. Mahajan said a moment later, wand pressed close to Stiles’ sticky skin. “That’s- Oh.”

“Oh?” Stiles repeated, his voice higher-pitched, his heart rate suddenly skyrocketing. Derek felt his own pulse quicken exponentially. Stiles’ hand reached up, grabbed Derek’s off of his shoulder, and held it tightly. “What ‘oh’? What’s wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Dr. Mahajan reassured him, and Stiles sighed, his whole body relaxing. His hand stayed wrapped around Derek’s, and Derek let it. “Just- Hold on.” She shifted, doing something Derek was in the wrong position to follow, and there was a new sound - one Derek had only heard faintly until then.

“Is that the heartbeat?” Stiles asked breathlessly, his eyes skimming back and forth over the ultrasound screen, trying desperately to decipher the images on it.

“It is,” Dr. Mahajan told him. “But, if you listen…” She leaned over and turned up the volume on the speakers. “Listen carefully.”

The three of them fell silent as Derek and Stiles listened. Derek felt his hands go clammy when he realized, but Stiles frowned, glancing up at him.

“What?” Stiles asked. He tightened his grip on Derek’s hand, as though reminding him he was there. “What is it?”

“There’s two,” Derek said, trying his best to sound normal. Stiles’ brow furrowed; he assumed he did not succeed at sounding like he usually did. “Two heartbeats, Stiles. Twins.”

“Oh, holy shit,” Stiles breathed, his head snapping back to look at the ultrasound again. He fell into silence as he listened for a moment, then he laughed. “Oh, shit, Derek, we made two. Oops.”

“It looks like there’s a single placenta,” Dr. Mahajan informed them. “That means they’re monozygotic twins, or identical twins.”

“Can you tell what gender they are?” Stiles asked, staring hard at the screen, like he might be able to decipher it on his own. Dr. Mahajan reached up with her free hand, her fingers tracing a circle around one of the shifting shapes.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can today,” Dr. Mahajan told them, and Stiles nodded, his head falling back. He kept watching the ultrasound until he seemed to remember his hand around Derek’s, at which point he shifted his head until he could look up at Derek.

“There’s two,” Stiles said, as though Derek had not been there, “and they’re okay.”

Derek hesitated, briefly, before he halting bent over and pressed his lips to Stiles’ forehead. “Yeah, Stiles, you’re right. They’re okay. You’re doing a good job.”

Dr. Mahajan helped Stiles clean up and redress before she informed them she printed off a few copies of pictures from the ultrasound, and she left. As soon as she was gone, Stiles smacked Derek’s chest and sat up on the waxy paper on the bed.

“What was that for?” Derek asked, rubbing at the spot Stiles had smacked more out of dramatics than any actual pain the human might have inflicted.

“You can _hear_ the _heartbeats_ , idiot,” Stiles hissed, the effect somewhat lost in his half-grin. “Where was this information in the first place?”

“Stiles, I have no idea what this is supposed to sound like,” Derek reminded him. “I barely remember the smell, I don’t remember heartbeats.”

Stiles squinted up at his face for a moment before falling backwards again.

“Twins,” Stiles repeated quietly. He held up two fingers and extended them towards Derek. “That’s two, you know. Two kids. Two possibly-werewolf babies who are going to _eat my face off_.”

“To be fair, they would probably destroy you by age three regardless of whether or not they were werewolves,” Derek said, and Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.

“Now is not the time to grow a sense of humor, Derek Hale,” Stiles threatened, and Derek held his hands up peaceably. He helped Stiles into sitting, then standing, up, then gave him back his sweatshirt. “I guess we figured out why I look like I do.”

“You look…” Derek paused, a dozen or so adjectives running through his mind at once. _Amazing. Incredible. Like I could just rip you apart._ “...fine.”

“Thanks, babe,” Stiles replied dryly. “You’re so charming.”

“I’m not here to charm you, that job is done,” Derek responded, and Stiles smacked his chest again as Dr. Mahajan returned, pictures and an appointment scheduled for two weeks in the future in tow. As they left, the ultrasound pictures tucked securely in an envelope in Stiles’ pocket, Stiles’ hand found Derek’s again, and Derek let it, gripping it tight as they left the building.

* * *

_Month Five_

“So,” Stiles said, pointing a fistful of curly fries at Derek, who just raised an eyebrow. “No pink. Well, we can use pink. But I don’t want it to be _all_ pink.”

“I don’t think we’ll have problems with gender roles,” Derek reminded him. Stiles shrugged and slid his basket halfway across the diner table, wordlessly offering Derek some of the fries left. Derek took one.

“I just want to make sure,” Stiles explained. “I always hated seeing that, the kids shoved in clothes because of their gender. I mean, we’ll just put them in whatever, right?”

“Right,” Derek agreed, dipping his fry into ketchup and ignoring Stiles’ subconscious use of the word we. Better to let him figure it out on his own.

“God, I hope they look like you,” Stiles commented absently, swirling his straw in his milkshake, staring at the syrup and ice cream blending. “Your sisters were _gorgeous_ , and you’re just- And we are _not_ lucky enough for them to look like my mom.”

“Thank you,” Derek murmured. He looked up at Stiles, even though Stiles’ gaze stayed down. He studied his profile for a moment. “I’d like if they looked like you.”

Stiles tilted his head up, squinting through his lashes at Derek. After a beat of silence, he laughed, once, and Derek let the moment fall away. Stiles reached up and shoved his hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face.

“You know, I read that this whole thing makes your hair grow thicker, and I think that’s right,” Stiles said, swiftly redirecting the topic of conversation. Derek nodded to show he was listening. “I should cut my hair again.”

“I could cut it for you,” Derek offered, before he could stop himself. Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. “Laura and I used to cut each other’s hair. I’m not that bad.”

Stiles eyed him for a moment before nodding his acquiescence and sipping up the last of his milkshake. He threw a ten on the table, Derek did the same, and the two of them stood.

“So, you used to do your sister’s hair for her, huh?” Stiles asked, popping open the passenger side door of Derek’s [Chevy](http://gm-volt.com/wp-content/gallery/exterior-and-interior-options/volt_front_cyber_gray_metallic.jpg) [Volt](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P5PHcBvwfvU/UgJm7prqYEI/AAAAAAAABUs/nNbYfAbVz7c/s1600/Chevy+Volt+Gets+%245,000+Price+Cut+2.jpg) and sliding in. “Do you cut your own hair?”

“Sometimes,” Derek answered, slipping into the driver’s side. “Sometimes I just go and get it cut at Martinelli’s.”

“I got my hair cut there every time when I was a kid,” Stiles laughed, as Derek pulled out of the parking lot and started heading for his apartment. “Except once, when my mom wanted to try. I got the ugliest bowl cut you’ve ever seen, my dad never let her do it again.” Stiles leaned back in his seat. “I shaved all my hair off after she died. I still don’t know why, I just did.” He turned his head to look at Derek, and he shrugged.

“When I was a kid, my mom would take us all there every now and then, if she didn’t want to have to sit us all down and cut all our hair,” Derek offered. “I remember seeing you there once, actually.”

“No shit,” Stiles laughed. “I don’t remember that.”

“You probably wouldn’t remember me, specifically,” Derek said, turning a wide corner. “I had a lot of siblings. Pack families like things like that, my mom and dad both wanted a lot of kids. I wasn’t even near the oldest. There’s- There was, let’s see, Hannah, was the oldest, then Abigail, then Laura, _then_ me, then Cora, Nathan and Zachary were twins, and then Gwen.”

“Eight kids?” Stiles asked incredulously. “I never remember seeing the eight of you out with your parents. I remember seeing you and Laura and Hannah a couple of times, maybe Abbie once or twice?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really go out into town all at the same time often, it was too difficult to organize,” Derek explained, pulling into the parking lot of his apartment building and parking in one of his spots.

“Do you have pictures of them?” Stiles asked, his voice almost respectfully softer. Derek dug his wallet out of his pocket and opened it up, drawing out the sleeves of pictures and handing them to Stiles.

“That’s all we had left afterwards,” Derek said. He pointed out one of the pictures in particular. It was a little singed at the edges. “That’s the only one I have left of all the Hales. My parents - that’s Talia and Benjamin, and my siblings, and Peter, who… Yeah, he just never had a family besides his sister - my mom - and us.”

“How big was your house?” Stiles asked breathlessly. Derek smiled.

“Pretty big,” Derek answered. He pointed out a little dark-haired boy amongst the large group. “There I am.”

“Derek Hale, age eight, looking happy, for once,” Stiles announced dramatically, holding the picture closer to his face.

“Derek Sebastian Hale, age nine,” Derek corrected. “And I’m happy now.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Stiles commented. Derek raised his eyebrows, but just pointed out a different picture, this one of ten people - eight children, ranging from adult to toddler, and Derek’s parents behind them. Derek pointed out each one by name.

“Abigail and Nathan were both human,” Derek informed him. “So was my dad.”

“How old was Gwen?” Stiles asked, and Derek rubbed at the back of his neck and leaned back.

“Uhm, she was three,” Derek replied. Stiles nodded once. “Hannah was twenty-four, and then Abbie was twenty-one, and Laura was eighteen. I was fifteen, Cora was eleven, Nathan and Zachary were seven, and Gwen was three.” Derek scratched at the side of his head absently. “That’s all of us.”

“Derek, I’m so sorry,” Stiles murmured. He smoothed his fingertips over one of the pictures, then folded the sleeves back up and handed the wallet back to Derek. “I never knew the full… I never knew everything, and I’m _so_ -”

“Stiles, it’s okay,” Derek interrupted. He tucked his wallet back into his pocket, and Stiles reached out, wrapping his fingers around Derek’s wrist. Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it, frowning. He stared down at their hands.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles finally said, softly. He squeezed Derek’s wrist, then released him and looked up at his face. “What’d you say about a haircut, then, hmm?”

“I believe I said I could cut your hair for you,” Derek answered, turning away and climbing out of the car. He and Stiles went side-by-side up to their apartment, where Derek sat Stiles down in one of their mismatched kitchen chairs and wrapped a towel around his shoulders.

“How good are you at this, exactly?” Stiles asked, and Derek shrugged with one shoulder.

“Good enough that Laura never complained too much, and I still had sex when I cut my own hair,” Derek answered, and Stiles snorted. “Right, hilarious. Go wet your hair in the sink for me, why don’t you, instead of laughing at me?”

“As you wish,” Stiles replied, and Derek paused for a moment before continuing, digging his scissors up out of the drawer and stealing the faucet from Stiles for a moment to clean them off. Stiles laughed and batted him away, and Derek just responded by taking over the faucet and finishing cleaning through Stiles’ hair himself.

“Alright, come on, sit back down,” Derek ordered, and Stiles did as instructed. Derek set to work, remembering how he used to do Laura’s hair, and how he remembered his mom doing his and his brothers’ hair. It was mainly just a trim, but something about the situation seemed strangely intimate to Derek. He was just about sure that it was not so for Stiles, and so was quiet. It only took so long before Stiles could no longer take the silence and started talking.

“Did you know I speak Polish?” Stiles asked. Derek did not laugh, but it was a near thing.

“I did not,” Derek replied. “Speak Polish to me.”

“Obie strony mojej rodziny są Polska, to jest coś odebrać ostatecznie,”(1) Stiles said, shifting in his seat, careful not to move his head.

“Hablo español,” Derek replied. “Et en français, en fait. E italiano, che è probabilmente uno dei miei migliori. Мой русский еще слаб, но я в основном свободно. Et Latine. Et si est mortuus.” (2)

“Holy shit,” Stiles laughed. “I had no idea.”

“Nobody ever asks,” Derek replied. “Polish, though. I don’t speak any Polish.”

“Będę cię uczyć,” (3) Stiles replied, and Derek smiled, above Stiles’ head, where Stiles could not see. He continued cutting his hair, nearly finished, and did one last cut before he moved around to dust Stiles’ neck off.

“Non vedo l'ora di farlo,” (4) Derek responded, and Stiles began to smile before his attention dropped immediately down. Derek let the scissors fall onto the table and was kneeling in front of Stiles at once, heightened werewolf senses and abilities already working. He listened to the twins’ heartbeats, but they seemed normal, though Stiles’ was picking up speed.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked urgently, his hands hovering uselessly. Stiles laughed, once.

“I felt something,” Stiles informed him, and Derek frowned at him. “Something something. Like, a real something, Derek, feel-” Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand and shoved it against his stomach, and Derek exhaled sharply when he felt a light flutter against his palm.

“That’s… real,” Derek said, eventually. Stiles dropped his head down until his forehead pressed against the top of Derek’s head.

“It’s really real,” Stiles agreed, placing his hand over Derek’s. Derek fought the sudden urge to turn his face up to Stiles’, instead focusing his attentions on the light heartbeats and keeping his breathing even. “Good work, Hale.”

“Same to you,” Derek replied, and Stiles grinned.

* * *

_Month Six_

“I hate it,” Stiles declared, storming into the apartment, past the kitchen, and falling down onto the sofa in the living room. Derek looked up from the dishes he was washing in the sink.

“You hate what?” Derek asked, his entire forearms covered in soapy water.

“I hate myself,” Stiles clarified, covering his face with a pillow. “I hate my _body_ , I hate everything that I’ve-”

“Whoah, whoah,” Derek interrupted, dropping the plate in his hands into the sink and drying his hands off with a dishtowel. “Start from the beginning. What’s going on?”

“I’m a _man_ , Derek,” Stiles exclaimed. He tugged the pillow off of his face and looked up at Derek as Derek came up along the back of the sofa, looking down at Stiles, the faded yellow dishtowel still in his hands. “I was just born in the wrong body. And now, you know, I was getting closer to being what I was _supposed_ to be, and then this happened, and now I feel all _wrong_.” Stiles motioned down to himself. “ _This_. It just all _pisses me off_.”

“Stiles, I’m sorry,” Derek apologized honestly, moving around the sofa and crouching beside Stiles’ head. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. I know that you don’t like being trapped, but it’s almost over, I promise. Just three more months. You’ll make it, and then you can be in the body you want, and we’ll have-” Derek cut himself off, shaking his head once before picking up a new thread. “You’re almost there, alright? I know you can do this.”

“What were you going to say?” Stiles asked, sitting up on the sofa. “Before. ‘We’ll have.’ We’ll have what?” Derek shook his head again, and Stiles squinted at him. Derek stood up and took a seat on the edge of their coffee table. He handed Stiles his glasses, which Stiles slipped onto his nose. “No, Derek, come on. Tell me.”

“I was going to say, we’ll have a family,” Derek finished. “When this is over. But I know you don’t-”

“Derek, if you stopped assuming things, you’d probably be much happier than you are,” Stiles informed him. Derek raised an eyebrow at him, and Stiles smiled. “I never said I didn’t want to… you know, stay. Just that I have to finish school, I have… a lot to do, you know.”

Derek was silent for a moment, staring down at his own hands. Finally, he asked, “Where do you want to go to school?”

Stiles tilted his head in surprise, and Derek raised his head. “Uhm, actually, I’ve been looking into law enforcement academies. There’s one two towns over, in Red Bluff. I could commute there.” Stiles reached out fearlessly and grabbed one of Derek’s hands. “It’s, like, half an hour away. We’ll figure it out.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be involved,” Derek murmured, and Stiles absently traced patterns into the back of his hand.

“I said I wasn’t sure yet,” Stiles corrected, before leaning forward. “Did your human family members ever feel like pack? Could they feel that bond?”

“My dad said he could,” Derek answered, confused by the sudden topic switch. “I don’t know if Abbie and Nate could, but I assumed they did. They acted like they could.”

“I feel…” Stiles trailed off, seemingly gathering his thoughts. His brow furrowed. “I feel like I’m part of something bigger than myself. Not like how I feel towards Scott as the Alpha, or towards the girls and you as my pack.” Stiles glanced away from their hands, turning his attention up to Derek’s face. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

“You don’t need to describe it,” Derek assured him. “It’s pack, that’s what it is. That’s what you’re feeling.” Derek exhaled sharply. “Stiles-”

“I could stay here,” Stiles suggested. Derek smiled, and Stiles smiled right back at him, grinning widely. “After, yeah. I could stay here. Commute to school in Red Bluff, raise kids with you. I could do that.”

“There’s not a doubt in my mind that you could do that,” Derek assured him. Stiles slipped forwards, wrapping his arms around Derek and holding onto him tightly.

“It’s all going to work out,” Stiles said, not for the first time, but with more conviction than he had ever had before. Derek laid a hand along the back of Stiles’ head, and Stiles buried his face in Derek’s neck. Derek took a deep breath, exhaling and curling Stiles closer, shoving down anything he was feeling, for Stiles’ sake.

* * *

“Hey!” Stiles exclaimed, opening the front door of their apartment and grinning when his dad hugged him. Stiles smacked him on the back and stepped back, letting him come into the apartment. “You’re actually the last one to get here.”

“I’d say he’s fashionably late,” Peter spoke up, and Derek glared at him. “What, I’m not allowed to talk?”

“If you knew what’s good for you,” Lydia commented, examining her nails. She glanced up at Peter. “But, by all means, continue. I can only hope that Derek is my Secret Santa and the gift he got me is him tearing your throat out.”

“What kind of pack fights like this?” Peter scolded teasingly, and Stiles shut the apartment door loudly, startling everyone in the living room into looking up at him.

“Maybe a pack with a member who killed his own niece,” Stiles offered dryly, crossing to the kitchen and crouching down in front of the oven.

“Do you remember our last Christmas?” Peter asked Derek, leaning across the sofa to smile at his nephew, who was seated on the arm of the armchair. Derek just stared back at Peter. “I do, you know, when Hannah told you guys the eggnog was spiked, and she had all of you doing eggnog shots.”

Derek was silent for a moment before he looked down at his hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Laura laugh so hard.”

“Me, neither, kiddo,” Peter replied. Derek stood and walked away from him, and Lydia smacked the back of Peter’s head as she passed by.

“Alright, dinner will be ready by six,” Stiles announced, clapping his hands together. John deposited a Tupperware container on the table, and Stiles was on it in seconds, pulling back the lid to look at what was inside.

“I dug up the old recipe,” John said, rubbing at the back of his head. Stiles started beaming when he realized what John had brought.

“Pierogi,” Stiles laughed, grabbing a plate from the counter and dumping the pierogi onto it.

“They’ve got cheese and potatoes in them,” John informed him, moving into the living room. He took the spot Melissa McCall offered him beside her on the sofa.

“Just like Mom used to make,” Stiles commented, putting the plate in the microwave on low to keep it warm. “Jak będzie Wigilia, tak będzie caly rok.” (5)

“I still don’t remember what that means,” John confessed, smiling. Melissa pat him on the thigh. “Your mother used to say it, and she’d tell me what it meant every time. I just don’t remember.”

“It’s a proverb, Dad,” Stiles reminded him. “‘As is vigil, so is the entire year.’”

“That’s right.” John twisted around on the sofa to look at Stiles. “You always remember, you’re good at that.”

“And you always forgot,” Stiles replied, taking a seat in the last armchair left. Derek reappeared, standing behind the armchair, his hands in his pockets. Stiles leaned back to look up at him. “Hey. Quit sneaking up on me like that.”

“My bad,” Derek murmured, sliding up to stand beside the armchair. Stiles smacked the arm of the chair, and Derek raised an eyebrow at him, but he perched on the arm anyways. Stiles, seemingly satisfied for the moment, turned to Scott.

“Hey, Scotty,” Stiles began, and Scott grinned.

“We should do presents,” Scott finished for him, and Stiles nodded his agreement. Scott jumped up before Stiles could say anything further, and the two of them did an odd, complex handshake. Derek just sighed and glanced at the oven.

“Secret Santa is the best part of having group Christmas,” Stiles announced as Scott pulled all nine boxes out from under the tree. He stacked them all up on the coffee table and stood, cracking his knuckles dramatically.

“We used to do Yankee Swaps in my family,” Lydia spoke up from her place on the floor. Stiles pointed a finger at her.

“We don’t do Yankee Swaps in this family until I get too lazy to organize this,” Stiles declared, and Lydia held her hands up peaceably, smiling. Scott picked up the first box.

“This one’s for Mom,” Scott announced, passing the shoddily-wrapped box to Melissa. He picked up the next one, plainly wrapped, and handed it to Malia, who took it with a curious frown. He continued passing them out - another shoddily-wrapped one for Kira, a well-wrapped one for Derek, one wrapped with way too much tape for Lydia, one perfectly wrapped for Peter (who took it with a raised eyebrow, and a glance to Stiles, who just shrugged and went back to ignoring him), a small, unwrapped box for Stiles, something wrapped in layers of plastic bags for Scott, and one with just too much tape and incredibly even edges for John.

“Do we tell people if we were their Secret Santa?” Melissa asked, her gift sitting in her lap. Malia peered at the bottom of her own gift.

“Oh, I thought we had to,” Kira exclaimed, looking over at Stiles with wide eyes. “I signed the card in mine.”

“That’s alright,” Stiles assured her, waving a hand. “It’s dealer’s choice, whatever you wanna do, it doesn’t really matter now.”

“Who opens first?” Scott asked, nearly buzzing out of his skin, and Stiles grinned.

“Obviously, the Alpha,” Stiles answered, and Scott laughed.

“ _Obviously_ ,” Scott agreed, pulling apart the plastic-bag layers of wrapping. He finally got to the gift inside, which was a page-a-day calendar with a fact about wolves on each day, as well as the phase of the moon that night. Scott laughed and pulled off the Post-it Note that read “ _From, Malia_ ” on it in her messy scrawl.

“Stiles helped,” Malia blurted immediately when Scott looked at her. Scott stuck out a hand, and Malia reached out tentatively to shake it.

“Merry Christmas, Malia,” Scott said, smiling. “I love it, thank you.”

“Go clockwise,” Melissa suggested, motioning to Kira, who started beaming immediately when she realized she would be next. She pulled apart the shit wrapping job and found a box underneath, which she opened carefully.

“Oh, gosh,” Kira exclaimed, lifting out the frame. She turned it around so the room could see the comic, the cover of _Squadron Supreme #5_ from January of 1986. “This is the first appearance of Foxfire! That is _ridiculous_!”

“Merry Christmas,” Scott spoke up, and Kira set the frame down to launch herself at Scott. Scott laughed, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her temple.

“Okay, enough of that, you saps,” Lydia interrupted. Kira blushed and slid away from Scott, back to her own spot on the floor. Stiles reached down and ruffled her hair playfully. Lydia examined her gift for a moment before looking up. “I’m going to guess Stiles?”

“Nope,” Stiles answered, popping the ‘p’. Lydia raised an eyebrow at him. “What, do you want me to lie? It wasn’t me.”

“Seems like you,” Lydia replied distrustfully, opening the gift. She pulled out a little rectangular box with an Amazon gift card inside, and a little card from the Sheriff. She stood up and gave him a hug.

“Sorry, Lydia, I don’t know what nineteen-year-old girls want,” John apologized, patting Lydia on the back. Lydia kissed him on the cheek and sat back down.

“Sheriff, you hit the nail right on the head, I assure you,” she promised, tucking the card back into the box and setting it on the table. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Any time,” John replied, relaxing back on the sofa. Lydia turned to look to Malia, who squinted at her before turning to her own gift. She let one nail sharpen, then used it to slice open one end of the wrapping. She tilted the wrapping, and a book slid out into her palm. She examined the blank cover, then looked up.

“It was one of my family’s,” Derek spoke up, and Malia’s attention snapped to him in surprise, as did everyone else’s. “We had a lot of stuff saved in our safe, and a good part of our library was down there. This one’s about control. I used to read it when I was younger, it helped.”

“Oh,” Malia said, flipping the book open and reading something inscribed on the inside. A smile flickered across her face - there for a second, then gone, but it was there. She glanced back up to Derek. “Thanks.”

“Merry Christmas,” Derek answered, clearly uncomfortable, and Stiles clapped him on the thigh.

“Peter, go,” Stiles instructed, and Peter raised an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t think I’d be getting one,” Peter commented. Stiles cocked his head at him in what Derek recognized as Stiles trying to be condescending.

“You had to get one, didn’t you?” Stiles asked, and Peter huffed a sarcastic laugh and shook his head. “Well, it goes both ways. You’re just lucky whoever got you decided to actually give you something.”

Peter opened his gift and lifted a large dog collar with a bell attached out of the box. Lydia smiled.

“That way, we can always hear you coming,” Lydia explained airily. Peter forced an obnoxiously fake laugh at her and snapped the collar around his neck just to bother her, but Lydia took a couple pictures on her phone. Peter sighed and fell back into the cushions of the couch.

“My turn,” Melissa said, interrupting the glaring between Peter and Lydia. She examined the poorly-wrapped gift in her hands before just tearing the wrapping off and opening a box. She lifted [two](http://www.alexandani.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/a/1/a14eb22rs.jpg) [bracelets](http://www.alexandani.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/a/1/a12eb44rg.jpg) out and held the charms against her palms to read them. She stood up, and Stiles stood, as well, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. McCall,” Stiles murmured into her neck, and she kissed his cheek.

“I love them, Stiles, thank you.” She slid the bracelets onto her wrist and hugged him again before taking her seat on the sofa. She held out her wrist to John, who took the charms in his hands to read. He leaned over and pat Stiles on the knee.

“You’re just like your mother,” John remarked, and Stiles scrubbed the back of his hand against one eye before motioning to him.

“Knock that off and open yours,” Stiles ordered, and John acquiesced, opening up a box to reveal a set of knives. He lifted out a card, read it, then looked up, and Kira raised her hand as though they were in a classroom. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she rose up onto her knees to point into the box.

“I know you’re a Sheriff and you probably defend yourself fine and all, but my mom and I… developed these special for you,” Kira explained. “They work better against the supernatural. Like us. But, you know, use them on the bad ones, not on the pack. And, sorry they’re not bullets or something, but these are-”

“Kira, Kira,” John interrupted, and Kira sat back on her haunches. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, and she beamed. “Thanks, I appreciate this. I need all the help I can get.”

“Merry Christmas, Sheriff,” Kira beamed, scooting back to where she had been sitting. Stiles tipped his head back to look expectantly up at Derek, who carefully pulled his wrapping paper apart.

“Oh, you’re one of _those_ people,” Stiles commented, grinning, and Derek frowned at him.

“It’s really nice, and it was wrapped well, unlike yours,” Derek argued, and Stiles shoved at his thigh. “Well, it is.”

“That’s no excuse,” Stiles said, leaning over and tearing one of the corners slightly. “There.”

Derek heaved a dramatically put-upon sigh and tore the rest of his wrapping paper off and dropped it on Stiles’ head. He opened the box and pulled out a double baby carrier, and laughed, once, but it was enough to make Melissa smile. Stiles took it from him and burst out into laughter.

“Just picturing this is like a bonus gift to me,” Stiles commented, and Derek pulled the wrapping paper off his head.

“We’ll see who’s laughing,” Derek replied, getting up and letting Melissa hug him. He wrapped his arms around her, and wondered fleetingly the last time someone hugged him. She pulled away and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Derek,” Melissa said, patting his cheek before she sat down again, and Derek took his spot on the arm of Stiles’ armchair again. He nudged Stiles when Stiles didn’t move.

“It’s your turn, punk,” Derek reminded him, and Stiles elbowed him in the hip before pulling the lid off his gift. He sighed and replaced the lid.

“Peter, you’re an ass,” Stiles remarked. Malia reached over and snatched the box from Stiles, popping the lid off and laughing.

“He got him a condom,” Malia announced. Stiles picked the condom up out of the box and flicked it at Peter, who caught it easily.

“I thought it was a nice gesture,” Peter replied, shrugging, and Derek glared at him until Peter noticed. Peter shrugged, and the oven dinged.

“Saved by the bell,” Lydia murmured, standing delicately from the floor. She offered a hand up to Kira, who took it, hauling her up to her feet. Stiles rose to his feet, and Derek stood with him.

“Are you going to your dad’s after dinner?” Derek asked, and Stiles shook his head.

“No, we did everything usually do last night, Christmas Eve, you know, you remember,” Stiles answered. “Why?”

“I have a gift for you,” Derek replied, and Stiles’ face lit up. He bumped shoulders with Derek.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Stiles reminded him, and Derek half-shrugged.

“I wanted to,” Derek responded, and Stiles smiled warmly at him before moving away from him to take the turkey out. Derek gave Stiles his gift later, a book of the oldest werewolf lore he could find, but nothing could replace the feeling he got when he saw that smile.

* * *

_Month Seven_

Stiles held up two different towels, squinting at them both before he held the tags up to his face. He scrunched his nose, adjusting his glasses without needing his hands, and starting reading the tags. Finally, he just sighed and handed them to Derek.

“I have no idea what the difference is between those two,” Stiles admitted. “You can choose, I just have no idea.”

“Yeah, alright,” Derek answered, glancing at them before he set the yellow ones back on the shelf and dropped the green ones in their cart.

“What else do we need?” Stiles asked, peering over Derek’s shoulder at his phone with their checklist. Derek scrolled through the list, scanning it quickly.

“It says we’re supposed to differentiate for twins,” Derek read from the list. Stiles fell back on his heels.

“What’s it mean, like, color-code?” Stiles asked, looking back over at the towels. Derek shook his head and pocketed his phone.

“No, it means names,” Derek explained. “Over their cribs, stuff like that.”

Stiles stopped and tipped his head at Derek. “We don’t have names.”

Derek stopped himself from rolling his eyes, but it was an incredibly near thing. “Good work. You’re right, we don’t have names.”

“Names are hard, Derek, you don’t know,” Stiles said, walking forward towards the baby mittens.

“I wouldn’t know, since you won’t tell anyone your first name,” Derek reminded him, and Stiles stopped in his tracks, right there in the bath towel aisle. Derek stopped, as well, his forearms resting on the handle of their cart.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Stiles warned, and Derek stood up straight.

“Sure,” Derek agreed. Stiles sighed and leaned back against the shelves behind him, and Derek raised an eyebrow at him. Stiles waved a hand absently.

“My middle name is Teodozji,” Stiles informed him, and Derek nodded.

“Teodozji,” Derek repeated, and Stiles nodded.

“And... my first name is Mieczyslaw, which is actually usually technically a guy’s name, but it was a family name and they wanted to use it just in case,” Stiles explained, kicking absentmindedly at the floor of the superstore. “I never wanted to use my middle name, you know? It’s a girl name. I don’t know, it never felt right. And my first name was too hard to pronounce, so.” He swept his arms in front of himself. “I was Stiles.”

“You are Stiles,” Derek corrected, and Stiles nodded.

“I just never changed my name,” Stiles continued, shrugging. “Nobody ever uses the name, and my mom loved it. It didn’t seem worth it to change it.”

“Totally your decision.” Derek dropped his hands down into his pockets. “No offense to a name like Mieczyslaw Teodozji Stilinski, but I was thinking of more manageable names. Like… Claudia.”

Stiles’ usually fairly poor focus - worse now than usual, since he couldn’t take his Adderall until after March or April - zeroed in on Derek, and he laughed, once. He sobered up quickly and eyed Derek.

“Claudia,” Stiles repeated. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Derek assured him. “It’s-”

“No, just,” Stiles interrupted, waving his hands. He blew out a deep breath and looked away from Derek, running a hand through his hair, then across his face. Derek’s brow furrowed.

“I’m sorry, did I-”

Derek was cut off again when Stiles launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Derek and hugging him tightly. Derek was getting better; he barely hesitated before embracing him in return. Stiles buried his face in Derek’s neck.

“I can’t pronounce your first name,” Derek offered, and Stiles laughed and pulled away, rubbing the back of his hand under his eyes.

“Well, Derek Sebastian, what do you do with a name like that?” Stiles asked, taking a small step backwards, putting a little bit of space between them. “Well, how about Claudia, and… Talia?”

Derek scanned Stiles’ face, looking for any hint that he wanted Derek to kiss him as badly as Derek wanted to kiss him. Not finding enough there to justify doing it, he shut his eyes briefly and nodded.

“I would really,” Derek began, then cleared his throat. “I’d love that, Stiles. Thank you.”

Stiles brow furrowed minutely, then smoothed out a moment later. “They sound good together. Talia and Claudia. Good twin names.”

“We can use your middle name as a middle name,” Derek suggested. “Teodozji.”

“God, it’s such an awful name, no way,” Stiles laughed. “Besides, it wouldn’t be fair. Your names are aggressively masculine, there’s no way to use those.” He paused, just for a moment. “I know… I know you and Scott aren’t always on best terms, but he’s my best friend, and he’s like family to me, and he always has been, and Scott could work for a girl-”

“Stiles, slow down,” Derek interrupted, and Stiles exhaled. “I think Scott’s fine. It’s a nice middle name. What about Talia Scott?”

“What’re we doing for the last name?” Stiles asked suddenly, standing up straighter. He looked up at Derek in alarm. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“We can just hyphenate them, Stiles, calm down,” Derek answered, and Stiles visibly relaxed.

“Jesus, that’s a mouthful, though, isn’t it?” Stiles asked. “Talia Scott Hale-Stilinski.”

“Hale first?”

“It sounds better,” Stiles explained, and Derek nodded.

“Right, okay,” Derek agreed, and Stiles ran his fingers through his hair.

“Claudia still needs-”

“Laura?” Derek suggested, and Stiles’ expression softened. “I was close to all of my siblings, but, after everything, Laura and I…”

“It’s okay,” Stiles filled in when Derek trailed off into silence. “I understand. It sounds good, you know. Claudia Laura. It flows well.”

“That wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be,” Derek commented, and Stiles shrugged.

“Most people don’t have people so important to them in their lives,” Stiles replied, and Derek nodded his agreement, dropping his hands back down to the handle of their cart.

“We still need mittens and hats while we’re here,” Derek reminded him, and Stiles surged ahead.

“Red everything,” Stiles declared, and Derek stole the red mittens out of his hands.

“If we mix them up, I’m blaming you,” Derek warned, and Stiles punched him on the arm and snatched the mittens back.

* * *

“I’m just saying,” Stiles said, digging around in his box of Lo Mein with his chopsticks, picking out the mushroom pieces and dropping them into Derek’s box of Beijei Noodles. “If you shoot the skinwalker through the brain,” Stiles demonstrated, holding his chopsticks up to his head, pressing the points of them into his temple, “then you’ll probably be fine.”

“How sure are you that that would even work?” Malia asked, her mouth half-full of Egg Foo Young. “Where’d you read it?”

Stiles stuck his chopsticks into his Lo Mein box and passed the box off to Derek, who held it and waited for Stiles to stand from the sofa, cross to the bookshelf by the window, and scan the spines before he dragged out a heavy volume. He flipped through the colored tabs on the side until he found the correct green one, then opened the book to that page and returned to Malia. He offered the book to her, and she dropped her food on the coffee table in order to take it.

“See, there,” Stiles said, pointing at a spot on one of the pages. “‘Piercing a skinwalker through the heart or head with silver will kill it.’ They seem pretty sure.”

“I don’t want to go after this thing and shoot it in the face with a silver bullet only for it to bite me and fuck me up,” Malia commented skeptically, and Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“I know what I’m talking about,” Stiles replied, taking the book back and snapping it shut. “I’ve cross-referenced, fact-checked, checked the communities. That’s what you have to do.”

“Yeah, alright,” Malia conceded, waving her hands dismissively at Stiles and picking her plate up again.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but skinwalkers seem strangely similar to werewolves,” Lydia added, poking through her box of Szechuan Shrimp. “With the whole turning-into-dogs thing.”

“Hey,” Scott exclaimed through his mouthful of Chunking Pork. “We’re _very_ different, excuse you.”

“Scott’s actually right,” Derek spoke up, ignoring Scott’s second indignant “ _Hey!_ ”. “Skinwalkers turn into dogs, first of all. They’ve got complete mutations, and they’re not controlled by the moon. And skinwalkers usually have a bad habit of getting into families as pets and turning the whole family into skinwalkers.”

“Dogs and wolves,” Kira began, then stopped to swallow her bite of Chicken Subgum Chow Mein. “Dogs and wolves, you know, what’s the difference?”

“Foxes, jackals, coyotes,” Stiles listed off, falling back into his seat on the sofa. Derek passed him his box of Lo Mein back. “What’s the difference?”

“Point taken,” Kira allowed, laughing when Malia let her eyes flash blue and her claws flick out at Stiles. Derek raised an eyebrow, and Scott tensed.

“Don’t do that,” Scott exclaimed, and Lydia looked up at them curiously.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Stiles dropped another mushroom into Derek’s box.

“I don’t know,” Scott answered honestly before turning to Derek. “What the hell was that, man?”

Derek raised his head, his eyes flickering over to Stiles before he looked at Scott. “What the hell was what?”

“I wasn’t actually threatening him,” Malia snorted, sliding her plate back onto the coffee table and leaning back on her hands on the floor. “You gotta chill out, mama.”

“I know you weren’t actually threatening him,” Derek argued, and Stiles cuffed him lightly on the shoulder.

“I appreciate you defending my honor, but I could take Malia in a fight,” Stiles teased, and Malia playfully growled at him before flicking soda from her glass at him. Derek settled back on the sofa, watching the scene before him with a furrowed brow. Lydia appeared suddenly beside him, perching on the arm of the sofa.

“You’ve clearly already hit that at least once,” Lydia opened, and Derek looked up at her in surprise. “Oh, don’t give me that face, puppy. Just hit it again, it’s obvious.”

“There’s a lot going on,” Derek replied, leaning forward to set his takeout box down on the coffee table. “And besides, there’s nothing that…” Derek absently played with the ends of the sleeves of his Henley. “There’s nothing.”

“Give it time,” Lydia chimed, reaching out and threading fingers through Derek’s hair for a split moment before pulling away. Derek turned to raise an eyebrow at her, but she was already falling over Kira, stealing a piece of chicken out of her takeout box. Derek picked up his own takeout box again, and Stiles’ attention was back on him once he moved.

“What was that about?” Stiles asked, pulling out a piece of mushroom and letting it fall into Derek’s box. Derek stared down at their boxes for a moment before he shook his head.

“I’m not sure,” Derek lied, and Stiles shrugged, then leaned forward and stole a bite of Beijei Noodles. He made a face, then grinned.

“That’s spicy, and I like it,” Stiles announced, and Derek laughed. “You know, not having to face death and destruction every day really suits you.”

* * *

 

_Month Eight_

“I am _so_ pissed off at you right now,” Stiles exclaimed on February 23rd, his voice muffled by his arms and the table. He had his face buried in his folded arms as he sat in the kitchen chair. Derek leaned over and turned down the music.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, sprinkling bacon, potatoes, and chives over the egg mixture in the pan. Stiles turned his face over to look at him, his cheek resting on his forearm.

“This is easily the worst I’ve ever felt in my life, and you’re making omelettes and blasting “Don’t Stop Me Now” and nodding your head with the music and it just.” Stiles exhaled sharply. “I’m just frustrated.”

Derek frowned and turned the music off entirely. “How are you feeling? Because if you-”

“Calm down, it’s not like that,” Stiles interrupted, waving a hand at him as he straightened up and sat back. Derek watched the omelette, making sure it did not burn. He flipped it once. “Like I said. Just frustrated. But you, you’re just… You seem so light. You know what, you seem better than you ever have, and that doesn’t make any sense to me, because I just feel fucking stressed out.”

Derek’s brow furrowed as he slid the omelette onto a plate, divided it in half, and set the plate down in front of Stiles. He flicked off the stove, then sat down across from Stiles at the kitchen table with his mug of coffee. Stiles took a bite while he waited for Derek’s answer.

“I suppose,” Derek began, looking down into his coffee. “I suppose it’s because this is the first thing I’ve really had to feel good about in a long time.”

“Derek Hale, age twenty-two, feels happy, for once,” Stiles murmured, and Derek lifted one shoulder.

“I haven’t had a whole lot to feel happy about,” Derek explained, looking down into his black, bitter coffee. He took a sip. “I guess this makes me feel… normal.”

“How does this make you feel normal?” Stiles asked, offering some of his omelette to Derek, who shook his head.

“Hunting things in the woods with a pack of teenagers isn’t my normal life, Stiles,” Derek reminded him. “You might think it was, but it wasn’t. I used to be normal. I went to school, I went to college. I had a job. I read books and went to the store. I was a normal person.”

“Besides the werewolf part,” Stiles added, finishing the omelette. Derek drank the last of his coffee like a shot and cleared their dishes to the sink.

“Besides the werewolf part,” Derek agreed. “Before losing my family, I played basketball. I didn’t after. But, afterwards, Laura and I finished school. We moved to New York, I went to college. I didn’t finish, but I went.”

“What did you study?” Stiles asked, forcing himself to his feet. Derek retrieved his hat, mittens, and coat. He grabbed his own scarf and tucked it around Stiles’ neck for him.

“History,” Derek answered, grabbing a jacket. “World War II was my specialty. Well, the first half of the twentieth century, really.”

“A jet setter,” Stiles commented, stuffing his hat on his head. He opened the apartment door for Derek, who left ahead of him, but waited at the end of the hall. They said hello to Mrs. Evans in the lobby and left, the snow flurrying but not enough to drive them back inside. Derek stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“I’m sorry,” Derek spoke up eventually. Stiles turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “That you’re so frustrated, and stressed out. I’m not doing a very good job, am I?”

“You’re doing fine,” Stiles assured him, turning his attention back to his feet and the tracks they were making in the light dusting of February snow. “This is probably normal, too, you know. Me feeling this way. We’re being normal people for the first time since I was probably fifteen, and it’s so weird.”

“Weird circumstances,” Derek clarified, and Stiles nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed, glancing up at Derek. His brow furrowed, thinning his eyes. Derek turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Werewolf heat,” Derek reminded him. Stiles kept the expression up for another moment before shrugging and looking down at his feet again. He stopped beside a tree, examining the snow caught in the swirls of the bark, and Derek stopped at his side.

“Do you ever think about everything?” Stiles asked. Though the question was vague, Derek nodded in agreement, and Stiles hummed. “Me, too.”

Derek felt as though a Moment was happening, something he usually missed or ignored. He reached out and slipped his hand into Stiles’ mittened hand, and Stiles looked up at him in surprise. Derek could hear Stiles’ heart rate pick up, the speed of his pulse increasing exponentially, and he squeezed his hand.

“Calm down,” Derek murmured, tipping his head down to press his lips to Stiles’. Stiles raised his other mittened hand to hold onto Derek’s jaw, deepening the kiss automatically, opening his mouth. He pulled away sharply a moment later, and Derek backed up. “Stiles, I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t be,” Stiles insisted, his hands falling away from Derek. “It just- Something hurts.”

“Oh, shit.” Derek tugged his phone out. “Who do I call?”

“I can’t walk back to the car,” Stiles informed him, bending over double, bracing his hands on his knees. Derek pocketed his phone again and slipped his arms under Stiles, lifting him up.

“You’re going to be fine,” Derek assured him. “I promise.”

* * *

“It really doesn’t seem fair that they both have black hair,” Stiles murmured, running his fingertip gently over Talia’s soft chest. Derek raised an eyebrow at him.

“They’re identical twins,” Derek reminded him. “They’re going to have the same hair color.”

“I’m not to be held responsible for anything I say in the state,” Stiles warned. “You knew that.”

“You’re right, my bad,” Derek agreed, adjusting his grip on Claudia, who yawned and shoved one hand up out of her blankets when he shifted her.

“This is so weird,” Stiles commented, his head falling back. He let it roll to the side until he could see Derek, who smiled at him.

“Weirder things have happened,” Derek answered. He ducked his head down, pulling Claudia closer and inhaling. He looked up at Stiles. “Werewolf.”

Stiles exhaled slowly. “Scott’s going to be excited.”

“Your dad’s not going to be,” Derek said, standing up carefully and moving to Stiles’ hospital bed. He perched on the edge and leaned to the side to sniff at Talia. “Both werewolves.”

“My dad’s going to be fine,” Stiles said dismissively. Derek sat up straight again and pulled Claudia’s hat down further. “They’re healthy, they’re fine, they’re here. He’ll get over it.”

“I wonder what color eyes they have,” Derek thought aloud, and Stiles motioned with his free hand.

“Talia keeps opening her eyes, see if you can see better than I can,” Stiles said, and Derek shifted backwards to get a better view of Talia’s face. Sure enough, when he moved, she blinked open her eyes and focused on him for a moment before closing them, yawning, and turning her face towards Stiles. Derek sat back.

“Well?” Stiles urged, and Derek fought for a moment to keep the smile off his face before he gave in.

“They looked green,” Derek informed him. Stiles groaned and let his head fall back against the pillows. “I’ve heard some babies’ eyes change.”

“That’s not going to be my luck,” Stiles groaned. “Nobody’s going to believe they're mine, they look exactly like _you_.”

“They’ve got all your moles and freckles,” Derek pointed out, showing him Claudia’s face. “See, there, it looks like Leo the lion. The constellation.”

“They’re Pisces.”

“I don’t think that matters.” Derek shifted to look at Claudia’s profile. “Right, see, there’s Regulus.”

“Stop finding constellations on their faces,” Stiles instructed, turning his head to bury half of his face in the pillow. “That’ll probably make it easier to tell them apart later, though. Claud’s got the lion on her face.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that,” Derek commented. Claudia chose that moment to wake up and start crying, and Stiles clicked his tongue teasingly as Derek stood.

“See, you pissed her off,” Stiles joked, and Derek shook his head.

“I think she’s just hungry,” Derek said, leaning to look at the chart on Stiles’ bedside table. “Actually, yeah, it’s about time for her.”

He and Stiles went through the complicated process of switching them out, Derek taking Talia from Stiles and switching her out with Claudia, who cried the entire time, which woke up Talia, who just screamed until her face turned red. When they were finally done, Derek started walking back and forth across the room, trying to calm Talia down.

“It’s an omen of things to come,” Stiles teased ominously. Derek rolled his eyes, and someone knocked on the door. Melissa McCall came in when Stiles called the all-clear, and she smiled when she saw Derek pacing with a significantly quieter Talia.

“You’ve got some visitors,” Melissa informed them. “We only allow two at a time, though. Who do you want?”

Derek looked to Stiles, who bit his lip for a moment before saying, “Scott and my dad.”

“Gotcha,” Melissa answered, vanishing before reappearing with John and Scott. John went to Stiles’ side and kissed him on the forehead.

“Which one’s which?” Scott asked, looking down at Claudia in Stiles’ arms.

“This is Claudia Laura,” Stiles told them. He jerked his chin towards Derek and Talia. “And that’s Talia Scott.”

“So, she has to be my favorite by default, then,” Scott joked, crossing over to Derek. Talia opened her eyes long enough to stare in his general direction, and Scott nodded. “Yeah, she loves me. We’re already best friends. Stiles, you’ve been replaced.”

“How quickly we forget,” Stiles deadpanned. John sat down on the edge of Stiles’ bed, looking down at his granddaughter.

“Your mother would be so proud of you,” John said, and Stiles let his head knock lightly against his father’s.

“They’re werewolves,” Stiles informed him after a moment, and John huffed a laugh.

“I was expecting that,” John replied, and Stiles grinned.

“You’re welcome,” Stiles said cheekily, and John nudged him again.

“You make cute kids, Stiles,” Scott commented, taking Talia from Derek and swaying back and forth where he stood to keep her calm.

“Derek helped a little,” Stiles replied, lifting Claudia up to burp, then passing her off to John, who took her gingerly. “Especially since he said he thinks they have _green_ eyes.”

“The horror,” Scott laughed. “Black hair? Green eyes? What hideous children.”

“They look nothing like me!” Stiles exclaimed. John raised an eyebrow at him.

“They have the same spots that you got from your mother,” John pointed out. “They have your mother’s nose, too.”

“See?” Derek spoke up, and Stiles turned to him. Derek took his seat beside the bed again. “They look like you. People will believe you didn’t kidnap them.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” John teased. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Does this look like a constellation to you?” Scott asked, squinting at the side of Talia’s face, and Stiles groaned and pulled his blanket up over his face.

* * *

_Month Nine_

“I don’t think I’ve actually slept since last June,” Stiles groaned, dropping down onto the sofa and covering his head with a pillow. Derek continued his path around the living room in circles, Claudia crying quietly in his ear.

“That’s only partially my fault,” Derek defended. Stiles flung the pillow to the floor and glared up at Derek before twisting around to look at the clock.

“Everyone’s over here during the day,” Stiles grumbled to himself, dragging himself up off the sofa and over to Derek. “They want to hold them, feed them, whatever. Where are they _now_? Where are they at _three in the fucking morning_?”

“Asleep,” Derek answered. “That’s one of the perks of them not being _their_ children.”

“I have class in the morning,” Stiles sighed, dropping his head down onto Derek’s left shoulder, while Claudia occupied his right. “I have to be an _adult_.”

“You’re an adult,” Derek assured him. “Go to bed, I’ve got her.”

Stiles glanced up at him warily. “Are you sure? Because I-”

“I’m sure,” Derek interrupted. Stiles stood back. “I need less sleep than you, remember? It’s no big deal. I’ll be quiet when I come put her in her bassinet.”

Stiles continued staring at him carefully before he finally just stretched up and kissed him. Derek bowed his head to deepen the kiss and, when they broke apart, Stiles took a deep breath.

“We’ll talk about that in the morning,” Stiles murmured. Derek nodded and let Stiles kiss him one last time before dragging himself off to bed. Derek sighed and looked down at Claudia.

“Am I making a mistake?” he asked her. She sniffled into his neck. Derek shrugged and continued pacing back and forth until she was completely asleep.

* * *

“You’re the best,” Stiles exclaimed emphatically, already in his uniform for class. Derek slid his plate of pancakes across the table to him with his free arm.

“Claudia still asleep?” Derek asked, and Stiles nodded. Derek rested his elbow on the table and dropped his head into his palm, his other arm occupied holding Talia, who was chewing on his shirt collar. Stiles smiled at him.

“I wish I could’ve seen you with your family,” Stiles said out of nowhere, and Derek lifted his head. “I mean, I see you now, and it’s like… I wish I could’ve seen what your life was supposed to be like, you know? Big, happy family. Happy Derek. All of it.”

“If I still had my family, I probably wouldn’t have you and the girls,” Derek reminded him. Stiles shrugged.

“You’re probably right, but you never know,” Stiles said around a mouthful of pancake. “Anyways, it doesn’t hurt to wish. I know I can’t make it happen, but I can wish.”

“You can,” Derek agreed, straightening up and adjusting Talia against his shoulder. Stiles frowned at Derek for a moment before finishing his pancakes and putting his dishes in the dishwasher. When he was all cleared, he turned around, leaning back against the counter.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Stiles blurted, and Derek looked up at him with surprise. He could hear Stiles’ heart racing, the sound of his pulse coming into the forefront in front of the twins’ heartbeats, which had taken Stiles’ heartbeat’s place as the most carefully monitored. He felt his own heart rate quicken when he looked over Stiles’ face, searching for something in his expression, though he was not exactly sure what it was he was searching for.

“Stiles-”

“No, wait, hold on,” Stiles interrupted, rubbing his hands over his face. “I really do. Let me try that again.” Stiles took a deep breath and sat back down in his chair at the kitchen table. Talia moved her weak neck, almost as if to follow him, but she quickly gave up on that and let her head fall down onto Derek’s shoulder. “You stayed with me. You don’t care that I am the way I am. You take care of the girls, you let me go to school, and you do-” Stiles waved his hands through the air. “You do everything. You’re- I don’t even know how to correlate the Derek I met in the woods with the Derek sitting at this table.”

“Stiles-”

“Derek,” Stiles interrupted again, and Derek sat back. “You mean everything to me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Stiles-”

“That was way too blunt, we’re not even _dating_ -”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek said, raising his voice slightly, and Stiles snapped his mouth shut. “Did you take your Adderall today?”

Stiles huffed a forced laugh. “I did, actually.”

“Okay.” Derek ran his free hand through his hair. “You live here with me, you know. We have kids together. Some would say we’re doing this backwards.”

“We’re making a new normal for ourselves,” Stiles offered, and Derek smiled slightly.

“I guess so,” Derek agreed, nodding, looking down at the table. Stiles frowned. “If this is just… You know, if this is just because I take care of them, that’s not a reason-”

“Derek, why are you doing this?” Stiles stormed, standing from the table. Derek looked up at him in surprise. “I thought you would- You know what, never mind.”

“Stiles-”

“I have to go to class,” Stiles murmured, grabbing his jacket and slamming the front door behind him. Derek dropped his head back into his hand and sighed.

* * *

Derek heard the front door open and shut the next day, in the afternoon. He sat up in his bed where he had been partially-asleep, Talia resting on his chest and Claudia burrowed into his side. There was a soft knock at his bedroom door before it creaked open and Stiles appeared in the doorway.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles said quietly. Derek carefully laid Talia down on the bed and sat up fully. He motioned for Stiles to come over, and he did, shutting the door gently behind him. He perched on the edge of the bed, and Derek reached out, pulling him closer.

“It’s okay,” Derek assured him, and Stiles tucked himself against Derek’s other side. Derek lay back down on the bed, and Stiles let his head rest on his chest. “I love you, too, you know.”

“I figured,” Stiles murmured, and Derek kissed the top of his head. “I’m still sorry.”

“It’s still okay.”

* * *

_Month Fourteen_

Talia laughed, reaching forward and sending herself sprawling. Scott hurried to pick her up and sit her back down. He handed her a Cheerio and looked over his shoulder at Stiles, who was trying, and mostly failing, to get Claudia to look at him. He sighed heavily and lay down on the floor, and Claudia scooted across the floor to him and grabbed at his thumb.

“I definitely think the green eyes are sticking,” Scott announced, and Stiles jumped. Claudia frowned at Scott.

“I read that six months is basically where the eye-color-shifting thing ends, so it looks like this is end game,” Stiles replied, turning his head to look down at Claudia, who laughed and turned her face away. Derek stepped over Stiles and lifted Claudia up into the air.

“Definitely looks that way,” Derek agreed, tipping Claudia to the left and to the right, drawing laughter out of her. Scott rose to his feet, swinging Talia up with him.

“When do babies start walking?” Scott asked, settling Talia on his hip. Claudia reached out for him, and Derek passed her to him, letting Scott hold onto both of them.

“Normal babies usually do around a year,” Stiles answered. “At least, that’s what I read. Ask the werewolf expert, though, it might be different.”

“Maybe a little earlier than that,” Derek allowed. “Probably ten months or so. Maybe nine.”

“So, they’ll be walking by May 8th of next year?” Scott asked, craning his neck to look into Talia’s face. Claudia grabbed at Scott’s hair and jerked his head back, and Stiles helpfully removed her small fingers from his head.

“Definitely,” Derek said, and both of the girls turned to him when he spoke.

“Why?” Stiles asked suspiciously, still untangling Claudia’s hands from Scott’s hair.

“Save the date,” Scott said, grinning cheekily, and Stiles smacked the side of his head. Talia laughed.

“I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill Kira,” Stiles announced. “Just to tie up all the loose ends. Give me back my daughters.”

“My flower girl and my ring bearer,” Scott corrected, passing Talia off. Stiles laughed, and Scott nudged him with his shoulder. “And, of course, my best man.”

“Yeah, of course, Scott,” Stiles grinned. Scott turned to Derek.

“You’ll be a groomsman?” Scott asked, and Derek inclined his head.

“I’d be honored,” Derek agreed, and Scott smiled happily.

“Kira will be glad to hear,” Scott told them, letting Derek take Claudia so he could pull out his phone and text Kira. “She’s talking to Lydia and Malia right now. She’s asking Lydia to be her Maid of Honor.”

“You finally get to walk down the aisle with Lydia,” Derek joked dryly to Stiles, and Stiles shoved lightly at him.

“I’ll only go if you have an ice cream bar,” Stiles declared suddenly, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Stiles, _obviously_ there’s going to be an ice cream bar. I’m not an _animal_.”

“Well, technically- _Ow_ , Scott, you jerk.”

* * *

_Month Twenty_

“I’m mostly just disappointed that this is only the first quarter moon,” Stiles commented, shifting on his back in the grass. Derek dropped Claudia down onto his chest. “The full moon isn’t until March fifth.”

“I’d rather not test that just yet,” Derek deadpanned, sitting down on the dew-damp grass with Stiles, Talia clinging to his neck. He caught Claudia when she tried to walk away from them.

“I’m an actual police officer now,” Stiles reminded him, crooking one arm under his head and holding onto Claudia’s hand until she settled down and rested on his chest. “If there’s suspicious reports of small wolves wreaking havoc around town, I can just conveniently lose the reports.”

“They haven’t changed yet, so let’s not jinx it,” Derek murmured. Talia stuck his face into her neck and dragged his jacket over her face. “Zach and Gwen were changing when they… When they died. Gwen was three, she started when she was two.”

“I can’t even take care of Scott when he shifts,” Stiles laughed. “I’ll be useless with two actual children, running around, nipping at my heels.”

“They’re not puppies, they’re werewolves,” Derek reminded him.

“Werepuppies?” Stiles stuck his head in Derek’s lap, and Talia slid down in Derek’s jacket to pull at Stiles’ hair.

“We’ll see how it goes,” Derek replied. John stuck his head out the back door of Derek and Stiles’ new little house.

“You’re monopolizing my time with my granddaughters on their first birthday, and that hardly seems fair to me,” John called to them. Derek heaved himself to his feet and offered a hand up to Stiles, who dragged Talia and Claudia up with him.

“Pa!” Claudia exclaimed, reaching out to John, and Stiles passed her off to him.

“You’re lucky you’re so damn cute,” John said to her, kissing the top of her head. John pointed at Stiles, who held his hands up, palms-out, in surprise. “You. Where is all of your food?”

“I’m hiding it, because you’re a monster,” Stiles informed him, passing him to get into the house. Derek held the door open so John could go in ahead of him, and Claudia waved her small hand at Derek over John’s shoulder. Derek waved back, smiling at her.

* * *

_Month Twenty-Six_

“Why September?” Stiles asked, adjusting the ribbon on Claudia’s dress. She kept trying to twist around, and Derek knelt down to hold her in place. “Why are they getting married in _September_? Why couldn’t they-”

“Is this about the fact that they’re getting married,” Derek asked, letting go of Claudia once her dress was fixed and returning to helping Kira braid Talia’s hair, “or is it just the fact that your dad’s getting married?”

“He’s not just getting _married_ , Derek,” Stiles reminded him. “He’s marrying _Melissa McCall_. What am I supposed to call her? Melissa? I’ve always called her Mrs. McCall. And Scott can just call Dad “Sheriff”, that’s what he’s always done.”

“Stiles, you’re spiralling,” Lydia chimed in, grabbing Claudia when she tried to run by her. She sat her down in her lap and started braiding her hair back. “You gotta calm down.”

“Hey, guys,” Scott greeted, sticking his head in the doorway. Stiles jumped, clutching at his chest.

“Shit, Scott, you can’t do that to me,” Stiles exclaimed. He swatted at Scott, who just grinned back at him.

“Are you almost ready?” Scott asked. Kira and Derek finished Talia’s hair, and she hopped off of Kira’s lap and threw herself at Scott, holding her arms up to him. Scott hefted her up, swinging her above his head before settling her on his hip. Kira smiled happily at him.

“Yeah, we’re about done,” Lydia answered, putting Claudia on the ground before standing neatly and smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress.

“You realize we’re gonna be brothers now,” Stiles said to Scott. Talia fell backwards out of Scott’s hold, landed easily on her feet, and darted off after her sister. Stiles shook his head.

“We’ve always been brothers, Stiles,” Scott replied, looking at Stiles as though confused, and Stiles grinned before turning and embracing him.

“That’s nice and all,” Malia interrupted, flicking a grain of rice at Stiles’ forehead. “But you’ve gotta get rolling, guys. Ceremony’s starting soon.”

“Did I miss anything?” a familiar voice asked, and Scott whirled around.

“Isaac!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around his laughing friend. “I didn’t know you’d be coming, I wasn’t sure-”

“I’m not going to miss something like this,” Isaac scoffed. Talia and Claudia sprinted around the sofa, bumping into the backs of Scott’s legs and peering around him at Isaac. Talia stuck her head out first, sniffing at Isaac before approaching him completely. She turned back to look at Derek, who nodded at her. She turned back to Isaac and held her hands up to him, and Isaac lifted her up.

“Who is this?” Isaac asked, looking down into her face. He frowned, examining her features, then looked up at Stiles.

“You missed a lot,” Stiles informed him, and Isaac laughed. “We’ll catch you up.”

“Alright, let’s go!” John announced, clapping his hands together as he entered the room. He dropped his hand onto Isaac’s shoulder when he saw him. “Isaac, good to see you, son. Let’s go, come on, all of you. Don’t keep the lady waiting.”

* * *

 

_Month Thirty-Two_

“Daddy!” Claudia exclaimed, throwing herself at Stiles’ legs the second he opened the front door of their house. Talia came speeding around the corner at an alarming speed and pitched herself at him. Stiles bent down and lifted them both up.

“Derek?” Stiles called into the house.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Derek called back, and Stiles hefted Claudia up higher on his hip.

“You gotta pull my gun off for me,” Stiles informed him, and Derek turned away from the stove, grabbed the gun from Stiles’ belt, and stuck it in one of the higher cabinets that locked. “How’ve they been today?”

“Usual full moon day,” Derek answered, accepting the kiss that Stiles gave him until Claudia started prying their faces apart. “They’ve been a little hectic. Tonight’s probably going to be more interesting than their other full moons.”

“Fun,” Stiles whistled, dropping Talia and Claudia to the ground. Claudia let her claws pop out, and she growled playfully at her sister before chasing her away.

“Good day at work?” Derek asked absently, pulling apart the pieces of raw turkey and tying strings to the ends of them. Stiles stuck his hand sin and started to help.

“Yeah, fine,” Stiles answered. “I told them I’d be leaving for a while.”

“How’d they take it?” Derek inquired, and Stiles shrugged.

“I think they’ve been expecting it,” Stiles admitted, double-knotting one of the knots. Derek glanced over at him.

“You alright?” Derek asked, and Stiles’ shoulders immediately slumped and relaxed.

“Sometimes, I feel like you’re a mind-reader,” Stiles murmured, and Derek wiped his hands off on a paper towel.

“It’s-”

“A pack thing, yeah, I know,” Stiles finished for him, tying off the last knot. He turned and leaned back against the counter, accepting the paper towel that Derek passed him.

“Actually, I was going to say it’s a mate thing,” Derek informed him, opening the trash lid and chucking the paper towels in the barrel. “Kira probably couldn’t tell you how you’re feeling right now, despite being pack. And she also-”

“Alright, yeah, I got it,” Stiles interrupted, waving a hand at him. Derek leaned back against the kitchen table. “I don’t know. I’ve just been feeling…” Stiles shrugged half-heartedly. “Are we, like… Are we settling down?”

“Do you mean, are we not killing things at night and living in train cars and getting kidnapped to Mexico and wondering if we’re going to die sometime in the next hour?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. Stiles shrugged again. “Well, yes. We are settling down, then, I think.”

“Scott’s got a kid,” Stiles mentioned, waving a hand. “Lydia’s getting married. My _dad_ got married. We’ve got _kids_ , Derek, and we’re _married_. What _happened_?”

“We grew up,” Derek answered, and Talia and Claudia rounded the corner then, using a kitchen chair as leverage to launch themselves onto Derek’s back. Stiles smiled at him.

“I guess we did,” Stiles replied, leaning forward to kiss Derek again until the girls pushed at his face.

* * *

_Month Forty-Six_

“Claudia,” Stiles said, a warning clear in his tone, and Claudia sat back away from the baby on the blanket.

“He _asked_ , Daddy,” Claudia replied, and Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“Did he?” Stiles asked. Claudia looked down at Benjamin John, then shook her head.

“He didn’t,” she confessed, and Stiles ruffled her dark hair. Derek entered the room just then, Talia hanging from his neck. He lifted up Benjamin easily.

“Grab Claudia,” Derek instructed, and Stiles snatched her up, following Derek out of the living room and down to the basement.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles demanded, and Derek shoved open the door to the steel back room of the basement. He set Benjamin down in the cot and let Talia slide down onto the floor. Stiles set Claudia down.

“Something’s going down,” Derek said under his breath to Stiles, ensuring Claudia and Talia could not hear and understand. “Scott brought Haruki and Lupe over to Lydia, she’s going to meet Melissa here and they’ll come down. They’ll use our knock, so you’ll know.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, frowning. “If something’s happening, I’m coming with you.”

“Scott and Kira are on their way over here, and then we’re going to meet up with Malia and fix this,” Derek continued, as though Stiles hadn’t spoken. Stiles grabbed Derek’s wrist.

“Derek, I’m coming with you,” Stiles repeated, and Derek shook his head, glancing over their shoulders at Talia and Claudia, standing together, looking up at them with matching furrowed brows.

“Someone has to stay, just in case,” Derek said, looking away from them and back to Stiles. “We’ve talked about this. Someone-”

“Why does that someone have to be me?” Stiles argued, and Derek shook his head before pushing a desperate kiss to Stiles’ mouth.

“Because I can’t live with myself if you don’t come home,” Derek said harshly against his mouth. He kissed him again, then knelt down in front of the twins. “I’m going to be right back, okay? I’m going to help Uncle Scott with something. Take care of your dad and your brother for me while I’m gone, okay?”

“Okay,” Claudia said softly. Talia nodded. He kissed each of them on their foreheads, then kissed Benjamin on the crown of his head. He nodded to Stiles, then left, the steel door slamming shut and locking behind him. Derek squared his shoulders and sprinted back up the stairs, going out onto the front porch and waiting. Lydia and Melissa, with Haruki and Lupe in tow, arrived before Scott and Kira did. Derek directed them downstairs, ensuring they got into the shelter before darting back upstairs. As soon as he was on the front lawn, Scott and Kira pulled in on their twin [SuperLows](http://www.harley-davidson.com/en_US/Media/images/2011-Motorcycles/additional/pg_spxl883l_dom_additional.jpg). Derek climbed onto his Seventy-Two and followed after them to Malia’s, where Malia hopped on the back of his Seventy-Two and Scott pulled up alongside them.

“Follow me,” Scott called over the roar of their engines. “There’s a whole bunch of rugaru in the woods, and we’re going to _annihilate_ them.”

“Sounds good,” Malia shouted back. Scott revved his engine and took off, Kira behind him, Derek and Malia behind her. They followed Scott to the outside edge of Beacon Hills’ Hedge Woods, then further in, the four of them navigating pre-organized paths into the woods. They reached a tree that Scott had marked with three claw marks, struck across the trunk - “Like Wolverine,” Stiles had commented, pretending to scratch the tree - and hopped off their motorcycles, leaving them there in the woods.

Scott’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket, reading the text aloud. “Stiles says, ‘Rugaru can only be killed by fire.’ Malia-”

“Got it,” Malia cut him off, pulling off her overlarge backpack and removing four relatively small flamethrowers. Kira laughed.

“Where do you even get these?” Kira asked, taking the weapon Malia passed to her. Malia flashed a wicked grin at her, and Kira shrugged, kicking her flamethrower into action.

“What do rugaru do?” Malia asked. Derek looked over, slinging the strap of his flamethrower across his chest.

“They’re nasty little shits,” Scott replied. “Wormy skin. Rotted teeth. They eat human flesh. That’s why I told you we had to leave Lydia and Stiles at home.”

“For the best,” Derek assured him, adjusting the strap. Scott clapped him on the shoulder.

“We’ll rip these things apart with fire,” Scott exclaimed, charging off into the woods, weapon blazing. The four of them took off at a dead sprint, weapons held in front of them, and rugaru came out of the woods at them, as though attracted by their footsteps, or perhaps their scent. There were eight of them in the pack, their skin fleshy and loose, their mouths covered in blood, as though they had just eaten. They spotted Scott first, launching themselves at him, hurtling through the air at their increased speeds. Their enhanced strength snapped Derek’s leg when they crashed into him, but he stood back up almost automatically, the bones mending themselves together enough for him to torch the rugaru to death.

It took nearly forty-five minutes but, by the end of it, the eight rugaru were dead, and Scott and Derek ascertained through scent and search that there were not anymore to be found. Derek’s leg had healed wrong from him running on it so soon after hurting it, Malia had a couple of cracked ribs, Scott had a broken cheekbone that was still healing, and Kira had a broken wrist, but otherwise, they came out on the other side of the fight relatively unharmed.

“I torched one in the mouth,” Malia recounted after, stuffing the last of their weaponry in her and Kira’s backpacks. Scott gingerly lifted Kira’s wrist, his veins turning black as he drained her pain from her. She smiled reassuringly at him, and Derek sat down on a flat rock, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and dialing Stiles’ number on memory alone.

“Derek, is everything okay?” Stiles asked as soon as he picked up the phone. Derek huffed a laugh.

“Everything’s fine,” Derek assured him, and Stiles let out a breath of relief.

“I was worried,” Stiles said quietly, and Derek reached down, trying to shove his leg together from the outside. He grit his teeth, then finally just sat back.

“You’re going to have to set my leg when I get home,” Derek informed him. Stiles was silent for a moment.

“Is it bad?” Stiles asked, his voice soft, and Derek shook his head before remembering that they were talking on the phone.

“No, not too bad,” Derek replied, examining his leg. “Just bad enough.” He paused for a moment. “Remember, a little while back, you asked if we were settling down?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I don’t think we are,” Derek informed him, and Stiles laughed a second time - a real laugh this time, albeit a short one. Derek could hear Talia’s voice in the background, and Stiles said something to her away from the phone.

“Do you mind talking to the girls?” Stiles asked, and Derek looked up to where Scott and Kira were both talking through the speakerphone of Scott’s phone, and Malia was talking quietly a distance away into her own phone.

“I’d love to talk to them,” Derek replied, and he could almost hear the smile in Stiles’ voice when he told Talia to talk to him on the phone.

“Hi, Papa,” Talia said quietly into the phone. Derek smiled.

“Hey, baby,” Derek laughed. “How are you? Did you take care of B.J. like I asked?”

“Yeah,” Talia answered, the phone resounding with static as it shifted in her small hands. “He cried.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’d he cry?”

“He was hungry,” Talia responded. Static rustled through the line again. “Claudia wants to talk.”

“You can put her on,” Derek told her. “I’ll be home soon, I promise. I love you.”

“Love you,” Talia echoed. There was some scuffling and silence as the phone was passed between hands, and soon, Claudia picked it up.

“Hi,” Claudia said, and her voice, though sounding about exactly similar to her sister’s, seemed utterly different to Derek.

“Hi, Claud,” Derek greeted, and Claudia sighed audibly. Derek laughed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m happy you’re okay,” Claudia whispered. Derek ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m always going to be okay,” Derek promised recklessly. “You never have to worry, baby, I promise. Okay?”

“Okay, Papa,” Claudia agreed. There was a rustle. “Daddy wants the phone.”

“I’ll talk to you when I get home,” Derek assured her. “And I’ll be home very soon. I love you.”

“Love you, Papa,” Claudia answered, and the phone got passed back up to Stiles.

“They have the saddest faces I’ve ever seen right now,” Stiles informed Derek when he got the phone back. Derek forced a laugh and scrubbed the back of his hand over his face.

“I’ll be home soon,” Derek promised. Malia hung up her phone.

“Lydia just hung up the phone for Haruki and Lupe,” Stiles said, and Derek looked over to see Scott pocketing his phone and helping Kira get her backpack on. “I’ll give you up now. Hurry home. But not too fast. Actually, maybe Malia should-”

“Goodbye, Stiles,” Derek interrupted. “I’ll be home soon. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Stiles replied. He lingered for a second before hanging up. Derek pocketed his phone and struggled to his feet, trying not to put pressure on his bad leg.

“Malia, can you ride?” Derek asked, and Malia nodded, tossing him her backpack. Derek fished his keys out of his pocket and pitched them to Malia, who caught them easily in one hand. After burying the remains of the rugaru pack, the four of them got on their three motorcycles and sped off towards the road. Malia led the way back for Derek, Scott, and Kira, and Derek was off the motorcycle the second they hit their driveway. The front door jerked open, and Claudia and Talia raced across the lawn to him. He fell down onto one knee and wrapped his arms around them as Haruki hurtled past him to Scott and Kira.

* * *

_Month Fifty-Eight_

“Do you ever think,” Stiles asked, Benjamin asleep in his lap, “that life’s weird, and time travel could fuck us all over?”

“No,” Derek answered. “But, feel free enlighten me.”

“Like, the slightest thing could be changed, and everything could change for us, you know?” Stiles tipped his head back against the back of the sofa. “It could change our entire lives. Maybe we wouldn’t even exist.”

“You’re thinking too much,” Derek murmured. Talia shifted where she was curled up against his side; Claudia, her head in his lap, did not move. He reached over, searching for Stiles’ hand, but just found flat chest. He glanced over and finally found his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. “Are you happy?”

“I am.”

“Then I’m not worried about it,” Derek replied. “Let the other timelines deal with those problems. I’ll just focus on this timeline.”

“I wonder what’s going on, if there are other timelines,” Stiles thought aloud. “Like, what do you think happened? Do you think we still ended up together? Do you think-”

“I think you’re thinking too much,” Derek repeated. He looked up at the fire, which was nearly burnt out by that time. “Are you tired?”

“A little bit, but I don’t have a patrol in the morning,” Stiles answered, stroking his fingertips through Benjamin’s black hair. “But we should probably put them in their own beds.”

“Agreed,” Derek said quietly, carefully removing himself from the girls. He dropped down and lifted Talia up carefully, deposited her against his chest, then lifted up Claudia, situating her carefully on his side. They split off, settling the three children into their respective beds before meeting at their own bedroom.

“What if,” Stiles began, running his hands over Derek’s chest, “we made an omelette or something, you know?”

“It’s one in the morning,” Derek murmured, catching Stiles’ hands. “And I think the full moon’s coming up soon.”

“The curse that keeps on giving,” Stiles laughed, dropping his head in to press against Derek’s, their noses bumping together. Derek ran his hands over Stiles’ chest, up to his shoulders. “I finally feel like we’ve gotten to a place I can dig, you know? It’s all kinda come together for us. You’re happy now. We’re happy. It’s all…”

“Do odważnych świat należy,” (6) Derek finished carefully for him, and Stiles grinned at him.

“You’ve been practicing,” Stiles murmured happily. He nudged their foreheads together. “Fortune favors the brave, dude.”

“And you have been nothing but,” Derek replied. Stiles opened the door to their bedroom and backed Derek up into it, kicking the door shut behind them. Derek turned it around automatically, pushing Stiles up against the door, tangling his fingers in his hair and kissing him roughly.

“When we were younger,” Stiles gasped in between kisses, “I never thought we’d be here. It’s, like, a weird parallelism, you know?”

“I know,” Derek answered, moving down to Stiles’ throat. “You talk just as much, though.”

“You caught me there,” Stiles responded, laughing when Derek nosed at his throat. Stiles pushed at him until they fell onto the bed, Derek bouncing on the mattress and Stiles bouncing on top of Derek until they caught themselves. Stiles grinned and lifted Derek’s head up, shoving a pillow under it. Derek smiled.

“Kids asleep?” Stiles asked, and Derek sought out their heartbeats. All three of them were calm, even, and Derek nodded. Stiles ducked his head down, pressed their smiles together. Their phones both chose that moment to buzz, lighting up and vibrating at the same time. Stiles groaned, collapsing down on top of Derek.

“Who is it?” Derek grumbled, and Stiles flopped to the side and dragged himself up to grab his phone. He swiped it on and flicked through his messages.

“It’s from Scott,” Stiles replied. “Looks like there’s a wendigo terrorizing the townspeople.”  
“And does he absolutely need us?” Derek murmured, turning around onto his stomach. Stiles sat up, tapping out a reply. He sent it off, and his phone buzzed a moment later. He sighed heavily, falling back against the headboard.

“He says he does,” Stiles relayed, and Derek nodded, heaving himself up off the bed.

“Well,” Derek said, standing up, “Beacon Hills won’t protect itself.”

“Apparently not,” Stiles agreed, standing with him. He gave him a quick kiss, texted his dad asking him to come watch the kids while they went with Scott, then grabbed Derek by the wrist and pulled him downstairs. John showed up in record time, grumbling at them the whole way.

Derek climbed onto his motorcycle, and Stiles slung himself over the back, his arms wrapped snugly around Derek’s waist. Derek took off, zero to sixty, and Stiles threw his head back and laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I learned about transgender struggles, transitioning, hormones - all from the Internet. Since the story isn't meant to focus on that, there's not a ton of detail, but I did my best.
> 
> If the children seem a little faster at learning than normal children, it's because they're werewolves. Always because they're werewolves. I based most of their development off my little nieces.
> 
> There's quite a few references to other things in here, so, kudos to you if you catch all of them!
> 
> Translations (courtesy of Google Translate, so, I'm sorry if they're off):  
> 1\. “Obie strony mojej rodziny są Polska, to jest coś odebrać ostatecznie." = "Both sides of my family are Polish, this is something you pick up eventually."  
> 2\. “Hablo español. Et en français, en fait. E italiano, che è probabilmente uno dei miei migliori. Мой русский еще слаб, но я в основном свободно. Et Latine. Et si est mortuus.” = "I speak Spanish. And French, actually. And Italian, which is probably one of my best. My Russian is weaker, but I am essentially fluent. And Latin. Even if it is dead."  
> 3\. “Będę cię uczyć." = "I'll teach you."  
> 4\. “Non vedo l'ora di farlo." = "I'm looking forward to it."  
> 5\. “Jak będzie Wigilia, tak będzie caly rok.” = “As is vigil, so is the entire year."  
> 6\. “Do odważnych świat należy." = "Fortune favors the bold."
> 
> ICYMI, here's all the links that were in this story:  
> \- [Derek's apartment.](https://33.media.tumblr.com/7c8bdd65dc6f85c42124ecda5256eaa6/tumblr_n84cvfICIv1qg1ngpo1_500.png)  
> \- [Derek's Seventy-Two.](http://thekneeslider.com/images/2012/02/harley-davidson-seventy-two-red.jpg)  
> \- [Derek's Chevy Volt Interior.](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P5PHcBvwfvU/UgJm7prqYEI/AAAAAAAABUs/nNbYfAbVz7c/s1600/Chevy+Volt+Gets+%245,000+Price+Cut+2.jpg)  
> \- [Derek's Chevy Volt Exterior.](http://gm-volt.com/wp-content/gallery/exterior-and-interior-options/volt_front_cyber_gray_metallic.jpg)  
> \- [The first bracelet Stiles gave Melissa.](http://www.alexandani.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/a/1/a14eb22rs.jpg)  
> \- [The second bracelet Stiles gave Melissa.](http://www.alexandani.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/a/1/a12eb44rg.jpg)  
> \- [Scott (and Kira's, they got the same one) SuperLow.](http://www.harley-davidson.com/en_US/Media/images/2011-Motorcycles/additional/pg_spxl883l_dom_additional.jpg)
> 
> I think that's all. Thanks for reading and enjoying! It was a journey to write!
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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